Azgeda Chronicles-A story of survival
by Crimson MirrorGlass
Summary: Clarke has fled her people after the mountain. Anya and Lexa have betrayed her. The Ice Queen has captured her. And she has the perfect thing to make Clarke bow. This is not a story of love. Just a story of necessity. Many Ocs. Anya, Wells and Finn are all alive in this. Inspired by "A Different Landing" by Rhinomouse. Now officially rated M.
1. The Twenty-Six

**Disclaimer: Own nothing**

 **Summary: Spoiler warnings. Takes place a month after Mount Weather. Anya is still alive. So are Wells and Finn. Jasper was the one that Clarke killed out of mercy to spare him from torture after Jasper shot someone in a panic. Clarke has fled her people, fled both the Sky People and the Trikru. Both Lexa and Anya, who she was in love with have betrayed her. The Azgeda have caught her. Nia is keeping her captive. And she has something that she knows will make Clarke bow to the Azgeda. Several OCs. Also, Charlotte is still alive too.**

 **Inspired greatly by Rhinomouse's "A Different Landing."**

 **This story will start a month after Clarke kills the Mountain Men and the rest of the story will take place six months after that. So Clarke, Anya and Lexa were all** **together, but Lexa and Anya betrayed her and left her people at the mountain. Also, part of the Ark is still up in space. Some people are still up there. That's important because of a bunch of the OCs that are going to be in this story.**

 **Trigger warnings for violence, serious violence, and trauma.**

 **This chapter takes place a month right after the fall of the mountain.**

 **The Azgeda Chronicles: The Twenty-Six:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke was bound by the chains. They were clamped tightly around her wrists. She huffed darkly. She faced the steel barred doors that were creaking open, the light from the torches eclipsed by two large bodies arriving at the prison. Clarke's body tightened up with thoughts of the possibilities of what might happen next. She recognized these men's clothing, though she didn't recognize the men. They were Queen Nia's. Azgeda. Not that she had had any doubt. They were covered in white fur, with black tattoos and blue tattoos along their faces that were hands with spirals in them, plus facial scars.

She should have known she was in Azgeda territory. As soon as she had woken up, she had been wreathed in heavy, white furs, much heavier than she'd need, had she been in Trikru territories. She had been taken by the Azgeda. She shuddered, remembering all the stories she had heard about them. She had been wandering around the Boat Peoples' territories, the Floukru for a couple of weeks, trading the furs of animals for caught fish when she had been hit hard across the back of her head and had lost consciousness. She had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like only seconds but she now realized it had to have been at least hours, days more than likely if she was indeed with the Azgeda. No, wait, if this was the Azgeda and she was across the sea, then it had to have been almost a month that she had been on that ship. She had been on a ship and she had been awake, then had felt something brought to her lips, some sort of liquid being poured down her throat and then she had blacked out again and again. She had been drugged. Probably multiple times. It made sense since the Azgeda territory, what was once Norway was a monthaway from Trikru territory in what was once America. She had been captured by the Azgeda, drugged by them repeatedly and repeatedly force fed with liquid food for a month or so. And apparently, here she was. At their mercy.

Clarke heaved out a breath. Wonderful. Then again, it wasn't anything she didn't deserve, was it? She ignored any signs of panic she might feel. Any punishment she got, whippings, beatings, skinning, burning, worse, she'd welcome it. She nodded to herself in resignation as the two guards stepped through the doorway. This was all she deserved. She was a murderer. She had killed the mountain men, left people at Ton DC to die, including Octavia, Kane, Indra and her own mother. This must be her justice. Nothing more.

The larger of the two guards, leaned forward in a slight bow. "Wanheda, Queen Nia will see you now." Clarke nodded, stepping forward between the brown-haired, larger guard and the black-haired guard, "Lead me to her, if you will." Both guards nodded and started pushing her gently through the gate, snapping the gate shut with a clang. They wisely didn't take her chains off as they led her, keeping their hands fisted around the chains so that Clarke couldn't twist the chains and turn them into weapons. They obviously remembered what happened last time.

Even as Clarke was led up the cold stone steps of the dungeon, out of the lower floor and into the main halls of the building, she did not feel any dread. Even as she saw the dangling torture tools; a flogger, a set of thumb screws, wrist biters, whips, and other Azgeda torture tools that she had heard the Trikru talk about during their disgusted gossip of the Azgeda at Ton DC.

After what felt like ages, Clarke was brought through the halls, past the many whispering servants and guards, mumbling as she passed by, _"Wanheda is here."_ And past the many frightened whispers of _"She destroyed the Mountain." "Wasn't she in love with Heda and her general, Onya?" "I hope she won't kill us all."_ The rest she heard wasn't in English or Gonasleng as the Grounders called it. It was in the native, Azgeda language and she only recognized a couple of words here or there.

Clarke tried not to laugh at the person who said the last thing that she understood. Clarke had no intention of killing anyone here. What was the point? If anything, the Azgeda was just doing what had been coming to her for a long time. There was no need to delay the inevitable any longer, was there? This was simply justice, finally being delivered upon her.

Did Lexa and Anya ever really love her? Well then, this would be like two birds with one stone, wouldn't it? Not only would Clarke's justice be delivered, but Lexa and Anya's justice would be delivered too. Lexa and Anya would be grief-stricken, knowing that they did not save Clarke from the dreaded Ice Queen. The only pity would be that Clarke wouldn't be around to enjoy their faces when they learned of Clarke's demise, found her head by one of their beds.

Clarke's one thought, as she was pushed through the opening, large, oak doors to the queen's courtroom, finding the wide white room, crafted from stone, bone and ice, eyes immediately finding two thrones, one Nia's and one that of a woman, a woman that Clarke didn't recognize or know the identity of, was Clarke had to wonder how the Arkers would take the news. Maybe they'd feel like she got what she deserved. She grimaced as she thought of that. Octavia, Raven, Wells, Finn, Monty, Bellamy, Harper, Fox, Sterling, Monroe. Surely at least one of them felt like she had had this coming for a long time. Maybe even Abby Griffin, her own mother would be relieved to know that she, the one that had left her to die at Ton DC had gotten what she deserved.

Her resolve almost crumpled then, cold sorrow that had nothing to do with the ice prison that surrounded her sliced into her heart as she went forth before the Ice Queen. She restrained herself from glaring at the silver floor, covered by three emerald, blue and scarlet rugs, leading up the steps of the platform for the queen and her companion's thrones. She kneeled down, chains and all, once she was free of the two guards and went down to her knees, palms of her hands to the middle rug on the floor, head lowered. She heard gasps all around the room, but said and did nothing. They thought it was strange that the great Wanheda was kneeling? They obviously didn't know much about her. Her life meant nothing to her. Not when every time she closed her eyes she saw the bloody, burnt bodies of hundreds of children and the part of her that wished to die grew with each day.

"Wanheda," Nia's voice echoed around the room, though she spoke quietly. "It is an honor to finally meet you. A pity that you were wasted on Heda and her dog general all this time." Nia didn't sound angered at the Commander and Anya's lover being here, if anything, she sounded amused. Clarke ignored the clenching of her heart as she thought of her loved ones, certain that even her own mother would loath her and lifted her head up, changing her position so that only her left knee was bent to the floor, her right leg standing straight on the floor as she kneeled. She said in a calm voice as she kept her gaze on the now standing Nia, who was watching her with fascinated blue eyes, smirking predatorily, "The Commander and her general's lover or not. We all know how that relationship ended." The queen's grin widened. "Yes, we do." She purred. Next to the queen, was a young woman with long, black hair and scars all over round face. She was cocking her head at Clarke and Clarke suspected that this girl was sizing her up.

Or trying to really analyze the young woman who was the commander and general Anya's lover. Either way. It didn't _look_ like either of them were planning to kill her. A little strange as this idea was, Clarke had to remind herself that this was the Azgeda, and this was the royal family of the Ice Nation. It was one screwed up family. The Ice Queen had tortured and murdered Lexa's previous lover, Costia, beheading her and delivering the head to Lexa's bedside. The queen had exiled her own son, Roan. He was out there, never allowed to return to his homeland. Clarke couldn't think of one thing Roan might have done to earn such a punishment. And who was this young, black-haired girl? Neither Lexa, nor Anya had talked about any daughter that Nia had.

But that wasn't really her concern, was it? Clarke began again, uninterested now with what either monarch did next, "I don't think it matters what I have to say. What matters is what you choose to do next, your majesty. My life is entirely in your hands. I'm sure you will give me a fate that you know is fitting for me, whatever that fate might be." There was almost thunderous chattering above in the stone, bone and ice floors above where balconies had been sculpted by most likely slave labor filled the entire room before Nia looked around with a vicious look on her face, clapping her heavily gloved hands only twice and the gossiping almost immediately stopped.

Clarke could almost hear the racing of all the different hearts in the room at Nia's glare, even if she wasn't facing any of the other people in the room.

Nia finally looked back to Clarke, walking further towards Clarke on the platform, almost leaning over the end of the top floor of the podium as she leered at Clarke. "You will not even try to save yourself?" Nia's grotesquely amused face did nothing to frighten Clarke. This was what she deserved. She wanted to see Raven, Monty, Wells, Finn, Octavia, Lexa, Anya, Miller, Harper and her mother and the others again. But they likely hated her. Seeing them again would just hurt her. Clarke ignored all the painful thoughts blossoming in her head like the most poisonous of flowers as she met Nia's gaze unflinchingly, face holding no wrath, regret, resentment, sadness or fear of any kind, pain filling her as the burned faces of all the children in Mount Weather flashed in her mind, her mother and Raven's screams as the drills pierced their flesh and bones rung into her ears. "Do as you will, your majesty. I have nothing but complete faith that you will do what you think is right."

 _For you._

Clarke left that last part out. Not because she was afraid of retaliation but because there was no reason for it now. What happened next, happened next. Any protest or provoking comment was unnecessary and meaningless.

What she said or did next would do nothing to prevent that or spur it on further.

The queen did not seem displeased as Clarke predicted she might. The woman's eyes fluttered a few moments before she stepped back from the edge, sighing. "I was afraid of that." The queen said, clasping her gloved hands together as her eyes slanted to the wall in thought. "Well then, I suppose I have to use more convincing means, don't I?"

Clarke didn't react, but she felt her chest tighten. The queen was taking this surprisingly well. Something felt off. Was she going to be tortured? If that was the case, Clarke accepted that as well. It was what she deserved too. She didn't want to be tortured, but it would be well deserved. The memories that plagued her of all those children in the mountain told her that much as confirmation.

Nia had a reptilian smile on her face now. "Maybe I can convince you to change your mind, Wanheda. Perhaps seeing some of your people in my care will change that stubborn mind of yours." Clarke's jaw tightened and she almost sprang up from the floor. Almost. Did Nia have some of her people? The 100? Her mother? Did Nia have some of them? She quickly dismissed that thought. No. No, she couldn't think like that. Nia didn't have them. She didn't. She raised her head, defiantly, though she doubted it did much in the situation she was in at the moment. "Your majesty," She began, making sure her voice was clear of the thick emotion she had been certain would fill it, "With all due respect, I might feel more encouraged to believe you if I actually saw these people and recognized them."

Nia grinned and nodded. This action only made Clarke's heart fall. So Nia didn't find anything wrong with bringing Clarke to these people. That meant that there really _were_ people Nia had captive. That wasn't a shock, since it was the Azgeda ruler who she was thinking about doing this, but were the people Nia had captive people Clarke actually knew?

Nia turned to the guards behind Clarke, "Saktar! Mathias! Help Wanheda up and let her come to the main dungeons where we are keeping our other guests!" Clarke immediately got up off the floor before either large, burly man touched her and turned to one of the guards, "Saktar" or "Mathias" nodding to him. "Lead on." The black-haired guard, whatever his name was nodded and without any emotions on his face, turned and walked, Mathias nudging Clarke along. The three of them, joined by Nia herself who walked down the steps till she was next to Clarke, smirking, went to the back, silver door, affixed into the wall to the left of the thrones' podium. Saktar pulled out a ring of steel keys, slipped the smallest one into the lock, turned the key and opened the door. One by one, each person went in, Nia grinning and nodding for Clarke to go first, an all too gleeful expression on the Ice Queen's face.

Clarke's unease grew as she went through the lit tunnel, torches in the clutches of metal claws grafted to the walls. If there was truly no one here that she knew, then there was nothing to worry about. She was going to die, one way or another, painfully, most likely, as these were the Azgeda people. And she'd welcome it. But if there was indeed someone she knew here, she had to protect them. Clarke ignored the growing tenseness in her chest. It was nothing. She was certain of that. The queen was bluffing. Grabbing at any possible advantage she might have. Even if there wasn't an actual advantage at all. If she thought it would help her purpose, even the slightest, the queen would grab onto it fiercely.

This was the woman who exiled her own son. This was the woman who had hoped to start a war between the Azgeda and the Trikru by abducting, torturing and murdering the Commander's lover. This woman was capable of any kind of wild farce, so long as she thought it helped her.

There were dozens of steel bar crafted cells they passed by, till they reached the one at the end of the hall, this one much larger and longer than the others and Clarke's breath hitched against her will when she saw how many people were chained up inside, bound to the bars, arms above their heads, legs tied to the barred walls. There were at least twenty-four or twenty-five or something. Clarke's heart hammered against her will as she leaned closer, trying to see their faces in the torches' light.

Was it them? Was it the survivors of the 100? They were too small and skinny and ratty clothed to be any Grounder she knew. The 100, barring Octavia, Jones, Harper, Wells, Finn, Monroe and a few others, had refused Grounder training of any kind and so remained thin and gangly. She peered closer. She looked at the faces, took a long, good look at them and found relief start to replace the fear that had been building, followed by many questions. These weren't people she knew. They were no Grounder or any Sky person, none of the 100. These were just people that the queen had dressed to look like the 100.

Clarke frowned. Nia couldn't be _this_ desperate, could she? Even she had to know that these people didn't even come close to resembling the 100. She had to know that.

Clarke saw no one that she recognized. Not Raven, not Octavia, not her mother, not Miller, not Monty, not Harper or Fox, not Wells or Monroe. Not Jones or Finn. Not Sterling. No one. The queen chuckled, "So you don't know them? What a pity. Then these Sky people will die knowing that no one has claimed them. It sounded like these delinquents have already been through quite enough." Clarke stiffened, narrowing her eyebrows. Delinquents? How did the queen learn _that_ word? Did that word still exist in this world outside of the Ark people? And that it was used in the context of the Sky Peoples' underage prisoners? Had such language of the 100 reached this far in the world?

The queen chuckled again, "Don't be too alarmed. That's what these youths call themselves. They say that they were locked up in the 'Skybox' and sent down here a few days ago by the person they call the new chancellor, a man named 'Pike.' Someone from the Farm Station, they said. Charles Pike." Clarke blanched in shock. Pike?

Pike. Charles Pike. Her and Wells's Earth Skills teacher? _He_ was the new chancellor?

"Oh," The queen's grin widened. "It looks like you recognize that name. Are you convinced yet, Wanheda? Or would you like to see the ship that they came in? The big, clumsy, metal can?" Clarke glowered. The ship wasn't too shocking. It was most likely that everyone on Earth had heard of the craft the 100 had landed in the middle of the forest with. She turned and looked back into the square cage where the supposed delinquents were being kept, her eyes scanning each of their faces.

Each of them were shaking, eyes wildly looking out at her, pleading for her help. They weren't faking that, at least. These people were indeed in trouble. Some of them had dark brown, short hair, some of them were gangly with thin, black hair. Some of them were only slightly more muscled with thick, brown hair. But they were all scared. Half of their number at least was made up of boys and girls almost evenly. A small number had dark brown skin, three of them as far as Clarke could tell, were Asian, all three young girls as Nia's title of them as "delinquents" had suggested. Clarke then noticed the metal rings around each of the prisoners' wrists, their right wrists.

Their life-detector bracelets.

Each of these people had the bracelets. Clarke's mouth almost dropped. That one little detail, the detail about the wristbands being on each of the delinquents from the dropship in Trikru territory couldn't have gotten back to the Ice Queen. There was no way. That was a detail so small that it wouldn't have been deemed necessary to tell the Ice Queen. Because no Grounder outside of those that Clarke and the other 100 trusted knew about the significance of those wristbands. Unless the 100 opened their mouths about it, which wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities. Maybe they had gotten mouthy and people had heard.

 _Like you're one to talk._ A mocking voice said in the back of Clarke's mind and she immediately glowered. Right. Lexa. Anya. If she just hadn't trusted the two of them, trusted the Trikru, then the children in the Mountain would still be alive. Perhaps. And her people certainly wouldn't be in more danger than they already had been. If she just hadn't trusted the two Trikru leaders.

A thought sprung into Clarke's mind as she recalled that the dropship that the 100 had arrived in had a symbol on it. One representing the station where the delinquents had been sent from. The engineer's station. Each station had their own symbol. The dropship these particular delinquents came in would have a symbol on it too. One that the queen would not know about. Queen Nia wouldn't know what the symbol would look like.

Clarke stared the queen in the eye. "Your majesty? May I speak to them for a moment? Just to ask them a few things to see if they really are where you say they're from." The black-haired guard snarled, "How dare you question-" The queen held up her right hand, silencing the guard. "Saktar. Silence." The queen instructed. "You may." The queen answered to Clarke, nodding to the cage. "Ask as you please. You will see that I speak true. You will _not_ try to help them escape." Clarke nodded in thanks and turned back to the cage where the prisoners were, looked at the one right across from her, bound to the bars like the rest of the prisoners, arms above his head. He was young like the rest. Clarke would put him at about seventeen, eighteen at the most. He had short curls of black hair, dark skin, and light brown eyes. "You," She said gently, but loudly enough for all of them to hear, "What's your name?" The boy looked startled, as if stunned that she would address him. "My name?" The boy asked, slightly abashed as well as shocked. "My name is Edmund. Edmund Davis." Clarke nodded. Last names. Not a Grounder thing. But again, the Ice Queen could have learned that. "Edmund," She said gently, "Tell me, what station were you and the others sent from?"

Edmund seemed surprised by the question, but answered a few seconds later, "Um, the water recycling station, ma'am." Clarke nodded again. "Thank you, Mr. Davis." She turned back to the queen.

"The ship that these delinquents came in," Clarke said, voice somehow even, despite everything. "May I see it? Show it to me, and you will have my decision." The queen lifted her eyebrows, but didn't seem too ruffled by the demand. She nodded. "Very well, Wanheda. Come with me." She turned on her heel and went down the stone hallway, Clarke following after only after she took one more look at the youths most in their late teens at the oldest, some still appearing no older than twelve or thirteen, fourteen at the most, and turned back to look at Nia, eyes on the woman as she moved, ignoring the pleading looks she felt from the cage, being lanced at her like accusing knives.

As she moved, Clarke had to wonder, would she help those in that cage if they were not really who Queen Nia claimed they were? Clarke knew, or liked to think she knew Nia well enough to know from the Commander's stories that Nia would likely kill the people in the cage if she couldn't succeed in getting Clarke to join her, regardless of whether they were of the sky or not. But even if these people _weren't_ Sky People, would Clarke leave them to die by Nia's hand? Clarke thought about it as she followed Nia out of the dungeon, Saktar and Mathias still at her back, the dungeon's door closing shut behind them as they reentered the throne room and went to the left wall, beneath the balconies, thousands of eyes on them.

Clarke ignored those stares as they went through the next door to the outside of the fortress, the freezing cold of the blistery, snow filled winds encasing her and the other three, wild thoughts flooding Clarke's mind. What did those twenty something or so people in that cage down in the dungeon mean to Clarke? Whether they were Sky People or Grounders dressed to _look_ like Sky People, what did they mean to her?

The answer was horrifying at best, but Clarke knew what the answer was. Nothing. They meant nothing to her. She didn't know them. They hadn't fought together. They hadn't eaten together. Hadn't mourned together. A month ago it wouldn't have mattered. She would have helped them in a heartbeat. But now? After the Mountain? Clarke held back a choked laugh as they trudged up the snow cloaked hills where a dark shape was perched, far too tall and wide to be any person or animal. Obviously the dropship. It was a horrible thing for Clarke to realize. But no. The people in that cell didn't matter to her. She didn't _want_ them to die, but what were they to her? Nothing.

Still, the question became, could Clarke leave these particular people to die? Even if they didn't matter and they really were nothing but total strangers to her, could she leave these twenty something people clearly asking for help, and people so young to die?

The small group reached the top of the hill, right next to the crashed dropship. Clarke took in the sight of the metal tube. Well, it sure looked like the dropship that the 100 had come in that resided in the Trikru territory. If anything, this ship was in a lot better shape than the one in the Trikru territory. Clarke's vision was blurry because of the snow, but from the looks of it, the dropship wasn't dented at all. From top to bottom, the dropship was in fine condition. Clarke was guessing that was because the ship had dropped onto a patch of very heavy snow, as opposed to hard forest ground like the 100's dropship had dropped down on. Even Raven's pod had been dented up when she had landed. And Raven had landed in the river.

Clarke lifted her head and scoped out the middle of the dropship, looking for the symbol. She ignored the chaffing against her wrists. The metal of her cuffs were responding in predictable strain in reaction to the freezing cold around them. Her teeth clenched as she felt it, but still walked around the dropship, searching for the symbol. If his was a hoax, then it was a very, very well thought out, elaborate one. Clarke would give Nia that much at least. Nia must have given both Saktar and Mathias the signal to allow Clarke to walk around the ship, otherwise she'd have felt the chains tug painfully on her wrists in protest, as both burly guards were holding the length of her chains. She finally found the symbol she was looking for. It was etched right into the back of the dropship. There was no way in hell that any of the Grounders would know about this symbol. It was the same symbol that the delinquent had spoken of. The water recycling station.

A symbol that represented the water system. A crouching, big bear, with its mouth full of salmon. It had always seemed crude, as before, on the Ark, everyone had thought that Earth was barren and toxic, and it seemed ridiculous to have any kind of animal as a symbol for anything on the Ark. But here it was. And there was no way that Clarke could think of that any Grounder would know of it. Even when Edmund had said "water recycling station," Clarke had felt her dread rise again. Because unless they were told, there was no possible means in which Nia would have heard of that station or the symbol for the station. The 100 sure didn't trust any Azgeda thanks to the Trikru's warnings of them, especially not Octavia, and she was the most vocal of the group. They sure wouldn't have told the queen.

Those people in the dungeon, they really _were_ Sky People. They were Sky delinquents, just like the 100. Clarke breathed in and out, the burning snow and ice crusting onto the little bit of her exposed cheeks doing nothing to tear her distressed brain from its current thoughts.

"Well, Wanheda?" The queen asked, clearly not dissuaded from her task by the freezing cold either, "What is your decision?"

Clarke stared up at the symbol, going over everything in her mind. The twenty something people in the dungeon. They really were sky people. And they needed _her_ help. If she bowed to the queen, the queen would let them live. The commander and Anya had told Clarke to never trust the Azgeda, but hadn't the two of them proven that they weren't trustworthy?

The queen turned her head slightly, smirking. "Well? What have you decided, Wanheda?"

Clarke thought about it. And thought about. She didn't know any of them at all, but shouldn't the twenty something people that had come down in this dropship get a say in what happened to them?

Clarke sighed, making her decision. Yes, she didn't trust the Grounders. She wasn't sure she could again for a while. But these people should get a say in their fate. And if nothing else, she could at least relish how Lexa and Anya reacted to her joining with the Ice Queen.

Clarke looked at the queen again. "Let me speak with the prisoners that came in this ship again. And I will make my decision, whatever it might be. I swear it."

The queen narrowed her gaze, now losing patience. But she nodded again and the four began their trek back to the dungeons. They got inside soon, Clarke almost stumbling at the overwhelming change in temperature thanks to the many large pits of burning fire and burning coals covering the corners of the floor, heating the room up. They went into the dungeons, the torches and the coals in the niches of the floor once again warming them as they moved. They reached the cage where the twenty something delinquents were held captive and Clarke walked over to the middle of the cage, peering through.

She leaned down and turned to the queen. "May I speak to them in private, please, your majesty?" The queen looked like she was ready to blow a fuse but heaved out a breath. "Fine. Have your privacy." She walked to the other side of the hall, gesturing for Saktar and Mathias to follow her. Clarke was surprised that the queen had done as she had asked. Yes, having Wanheda on your side was a very tempting prize indeed, but she hadn't thought the queen would allow something like this. She acted quickly, turning to the group. "I need you to listen to me carefully." She announced to the delinquents, making them look at her, surprised.

She kept her voice low so the queen didn't hear her, but loud enough for all of the delinquents were at attention, the stories she had heard about the Azgeda marching through her mind. "That woman you just saw? Queen Nia? You need to understand now she will kill you if you don't obey. And she won't kill you quickly. She will torture you. Skin you. Pull your fingers and toes off. Rip your bones out. Crucify you." She watched as terror filled the kids' eyes and they started whimpering. She normally would not try to get people to react like this, make them whimper like this. And it made her almost wince to see how frightened they were, but it was a good thing that they were scared. They _should_ feel scared. They should be terrified. Surviving the Grounders was no joke, let alone ones like the Azgeda.

It wasn't cruel to make them be scared, it was common sense. It was common sense to be scared of the queen of the Azgeda, the cruelest tribe in the world. Though Clarke knew now that cruelty was in the eye of the beholder. She knew now that the Trikru were far worse in their deceit. But that was besides the point. They were not at the mercy of the Trikru right now. They were at the mercy of the Azgeda. And the Azgeda were the ones that they needed to survive right now.

"I need all of you to understand," Clarke repeated, "That these people will kill you horribly if you do not bow to them. Bow to the queen. Bow to Queen Nia and her people and they will let you live. Promise to serve them and they will not harm you. Do not say a word against the queen ever. Or she will take your tongue." Each word sent a new shudder through the small group. Clarke sighed. Even the 100 had had a better chance than these delinquents. At least the delinquents hadn't been imprisoned by anyone on Earth till the Mountain Men. She kept on speaking, the stories that the Commander, Anya, Indra and Lincoln fed to her about the Azgeda people helping the darkness of her tone.

Could the Commander and Anya have been lying about the queen's brutality to keep Clarke loyal only to them? Clarke now held it open as a possibility, but Lincoln? No, Lincoln was too good. Too genuine and honest for that. She wouldn't believe that he would have lied about Costia, or about seeing the Azgeda servants as a boy, servants without their tongues, ripped out at the seams for disrespecting their queen.

"They want me to bow to the queen. And I will if it means that you'll survive. But all of you have to bow too. She won't be satisfied with just me. She needs to know that you are loyal too. And don't say or do anything at all that will piss her off. Just do as she says and you'll survive." She took a nervous look at where the queen was, still out of hearing range and turned back to the small group. "You guys don't have to like her. Or me. But you do have to do what she says, if you want to live. The queen wants to use you as leverage against me. And I'm sorry about that. But if you want to live longer, you have to do what she says. Whatever happens next? It's up to you. What do you want to do?"

The terrified and hyperventilating teenagers looked at each other fearfully. Finally, one of the young, Asian girls spoke up, swallowing hard, "Okay. I'll bow. I'll do it. Just don't let her skin me, please." Clarke tried not to wince at the plea and nodded. "What's your name?" She asked gently. The girl swallowed hard again. "Casey Zhu. Please don't let them hurt me." Clarke nodded again, feeling her chest become tight at the girl's fear and forced herself to look around the cage at the others. Slowly, one by one, each of the group gave their names and promised they'd bow as long as Clarke protected them.

She mentally filed away each of the names that were given to her. Casey Zhu. Edmund Davis. Finley Walsh. Beryl Guo. Jesse Song. Blair Campbell. West Ainsley. Avery Brown. Bobbi Shaffer. Cameron Dunn. Cody Smith. Christopher O'Grady. Sabine, Simone and Lorena Thomas. (Clarke was a little startled by that. Two additional siblings that had been hidden?) Dallas Allan. Parker Reed. Glenn Goldberg. Frank Gomez. Martin Shell. Kristin Blue. Hodge Wilson. David Walker. Mario Bianchi. Bailey Shea. And Paul Stack.

She acknowledged all of them and promised them she'd do what she could. She turned back down the hall, not even feeling a sense of horror at being saddled with more peoples' lives anymore. It was just one more thing to do. Like putting more books on a really tall shelf or hunting an annoying, elusive animal. It was just one more duty that she had to fulfill. Her jaded eyes landed on the queen. "Your majesty," She announced. "I have your answer." The queen beamed and walked over. Clarke knew now how many people were in that cell. She had counted them. Twenty-six. She wondered with a saddened heart how many of them would actually survive all of this.

Possibly none of them.

Clarke cocked her head as the queen approached the cage. It was strange how much that thought sounded like a relief. The twenty-six of them wouldn't survive. Maybe they would be better off than having to live in this horrible world where you had to be merciless or die. Perhaps it would be kinder for them to die. Still, the twenty-six _should_ get a say in what happened to them next.

The queen fixed Clarke with a cold gaze. "Your choice, Wanheda?" Clarke nodded, looking at the cage. "What do all of you say? What is your verdict?" A chorus of "We'll bow! We'll bow!" filled the halls, more foreboding than any war drums or war horns that were ever blasted. "Well," Clarke nodded, feeling no remorse, no dread now, she bowed down, going to her knee again and bowed her head, "You have my obedience and my submission, your majesty. I am your weapon, Ice Queen. Your blade. Your soldier." Should she feel horror at becoming an Azgeda servant? Probably. But if her duty was to her people, then she had to protect them. And the Commander and Anya had proven that they didn't consider her their people when they left her at the Mountain. So she _had_ to protect those who truly were her people. The Sky people. At all costs. Someone had to look after the Sky People. And it certainly didn't seem to be the Commander herself, so Clarke would have to do it.

It didn't matter now that she was the Ice Queen's dog. Her rabid bloodhound. The Commander and Anya had made her their puppet and she hadn't even known it. At least the Queen was being honest about it. It was a simple and blunt, "bow to me or you and these people will be tortured and killed." A threat and nothing more. No mind games. No lectures about being a strong leader. No reasoning about how some sacrifices had to be made. No trickery. Just a simple knife to the throat. And that alone, made Clarke appreciate this woman. This woman, in that moment was perhaps the most honest Grounder woman Clarke had ever met.

The queen held her hands open, seeming to be pleased. "My dear Wanheda," The queen announced, and Clarke knew that the queen was grinning, "There is no need to bow to me. Not now. While I'm sure you'll try to escape a few times, you won't want to when you see what have to offer you. For you are to inherit the throne." Clarke froze, looking up at Nia in confusion, her mind now pausing with befuddlement. "Your majesty, I'm not sure I understand. How would I have the throne? I am not your heir." Nia shook her head, frowning darkly. "My son, who is of my own blood, proved to be weak. I had to to exile him. It might even be better for our kingdom. One weak heir is gone. It's simply cutting weakness from a strong tree. Now Ontari, my adopted heir shall have the throne. Ontari is much more suited for the throne. And you are to be married to her soon. The two of you shall bring me glory." Clarke felt the clenching of fear and unease at this information, but ignored it, maintaining a neutral expression. So she was to be caged in more than one way. But that shouldn't mean anything to her. This was just another job. Another burden she had to carry. One more obligation. Who cared who she was married to? She sure as hell didn't anymore. She had thought she would be married to Lexa and Anya for love. But they had proved just how much they loved her, how much their faithfulness was worth. It had been worth nothing.

This would just be another faithless, loveless union. Nothing more. Again, the only difference was that it was honest. It was just the blade to the throat. Not a mind game. A simple threat and command. Nothing else. Beautiful and almost innocent in its brutal and cruel honesty. That would explain who the girl with black hair had been next to Nia. That had to have been Ontari. Nia's "heir."

It was then that Clarke thought about Wells, Raven and Octavia. It hurt. She trusted them. They trusted her. God, she missed them. But she knew Octavia hated her. How could she not? Clarke had left her to die in Ton DC. And both Wells and Raven had to have caught wind of what Clarke had done at both the Mountain and Ton DC. They likely hated her too. If they didn't from those incidents, they had to hate her by now after she had left the remaining 100 and Sky people. And even if only Raven hated her for leaving, Wells? Sweet, moralistic Wells? He had to think she was a complete murderer after the Mountain. There was no way he didn't. There was nothing left to hold onto at Camp Jaha.

She nodded, bowing her head again to Nia, still ignoring the pain of her thoughts. "As you wish, your majesty." What did she care? As long as she protected the twenty-six, who cared?

"Sky children," The queen called out, making Clarke lift her head and look at the woman as the terrifying monarch kept her cold, icy blue eyes on the delinquents, "This is Clarke! Known in our world as Wanheda. The Commander of Death! She was once like you. She is from the Sky like you soft, weak children! But the ground hardened and molded her into a great warrior! She is respected by all! Feared by all. They tell legends about her now all over our tribes." Clarke didn't even wince, but she almost did. These legends were exactly the opposite of what she wanted people to have in mind when thinking about her. Nia continued, "She will be the one to teach you and instruct you. You will obey her from this day forth! For she is the only reason why you are still alive. She is your general, your leader and will one day be your queen. You will follow her every command."

Clarke heard the chorus of voices that solidified the twenty-six's fates as Clarke's soldiers in the queen's mind, "Yes, your majesty!" The queen walked back from the bars, smiling, satisfied. "Excellent! Rise, Wanheda. I shall release your soldiers." Nia gestured to Saktar and Mathias. Both large men moved forward with their keys and unlocked Clarke's cuffs, allowing the chains and the cuffs to fall to the floor with a thunderous clank. That noise sounded so final that Clarke's heart thrummed as she saw and accepted this. She was a monster. And she was going to train twenty-six kids that were just trying to survive to be monsters too. Saktar and Mathias moved away from Clarke and unlocked the prison door. The two guards went to each of the delinquents, unlocking their chains. The now physically unbound teenagers looked at each other and looked at Clarke. Clarke rose up slowly from the floor and nodded to all of them. She mouthed the word, "bow" to them.

Avery Brown was the one who took the hint first. She bowed, going down to her knees before the queen, hands flat against the floor, head of dark brown hair hanging like a curtain. The other prisoners watched, shocked. Their eyes went to Clarke and one by one, they followed suit. They bowed next to Avery. Edmund. Hodge. Frank. Glenn. Dallas. Every last one of them prostrated themselves before Clarke and the queen.

Nia turned to Clarke, grinning. "Well, I see no reason why we shouldn't proceed then. Now we shall begin these twenty-six children's training. Saktar, Mathias, lead the twenty-six of them and Wanheda to the healing room. Wanheda, as I understand it, you are a healer as well as a great killer. Tend to whatever wounds they have."

Clarke nodded, not even questioning. She wasn't going to protest. Funny, wasn't it? Nearly a year ago, before her relationship with the older woman, she had come to despise Anya for trying to get her to be the clan's healer during a time of war with Anya's army. She couldn't care less now. Just another duty needing to be filled.

Everything moved quickly. The confused and frightened twenty-six delinquents followed Clarke as she led them with Saktar and Mathias to the medical section of the queen's fortress. The shallow room, lined with carved pits around the room, filled with red coals on each side, a fireplace with a roaring fire at the front, had multiple wooden crafted stretchers, cloaked over with thick layers of animal skins and furs was what the medical room consisted of.

Mathias and Saktar showed Clarke the wooden box where all the supplies were. Clarke recognized each supply gradually. Clarke took the balm from the curved, wooden boxes on the shelves as soon as she was done inspecting them and tended to her cuts. She turned on Saktar and Mathias and coldly told them to wait outside while she looked at the delinquents' various injuries. Saktar looked offended, but Mathias laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and nodded. They walked outside, closing the door behind them. The "new recruits of the Azgeda" turned to Clarke, thousands of questions dancing in their blue, brown and green eyes.

"What hell is going on?" Parker Reed demanded, brown eyes flashing with indignation. "We're supposed to obey you, right? Well, what's going on? I'm not doing anything until you tell me why I have to obey that creepy ass woman." Clarke kept herself from rolling her eyes. Looked like she had just met the "Octavia" of the group. "Did I not explain it well enough?" Clarke said grimly. "The Queen will have your tongues removed if you say to her what you just said to me. If anyone hears you say it, they'll have you brought to the queen. At least if it's anything like what I've heard it's like, you will. I wouldn't even be surprised if they had _me_ do it. That's just how twisted these people are." _How twisted ALL Grounders are._ Clarke didn't say. But it was the truth, wasn't it? The Trikru were just as bad as the Azgeda.

Because after all, hadn't Anya, someone who claimed to be better than the Azgeda, held all three Clarke, Finn and Wells captive and threatened to slice both Wells and Finn's throats open if her blonde captive didn't save Tris, Anya's second? Hadn't she planned to take Clarke as her healer, despite Clarke's pleading? Hadn't Lexa, a supposedly honorable ruler try to force Thelonius Jaha and Marcus Kane to kill each other, even though neither of them had anything to do with the attack on the village that Jasper had been responsible for?

Parker looked like she was about to start snapping again when Clarke interrupted, "Let's make something clear. These people aren't like the people on the Ark. They won't throw you out of an airlock like the people on the Ark would. You can say whatever you want about the council on the Ark, but at least they kill you quickly when your execution comes. But the Azgeda?" A cold smile touched Clarke's lips and it had the desired effect on Parker. Parker's eyes widened and she stepped back.

Clarke continued, uncaring, "The Azgeda? They won't just skin you. They'll peel the skin off bit by bit so you'll feel every. Precious. Painful. Second. They'll rip your fingernails off. Cut your hands open and systematically crush every bone in your hand, starting with the fingertips." Clarke narrowed her eyes at Parker. "Would you like to know how I know this? People I know have seen it done. Someone I know," Clarke found the name spilling out in disgust and spite, "Anya, she was here before on orders of the Commander," She spat the word out as she had Anya's name, "She saw something. There was a prisoner they had in their dungeons. Named Henrik. He was a bandit. He traveled here without permission. And his punishment for such a small crime? His back was flayed. His chest was flayed. His legs were flayed. One by one. They didn't even allow him to bleed to death. They cauterized the wound so he wouldn't bleed anymore. That's what they do to people who commit minor offenses. Would you like to say what you just said before in front of the queen?"

Parker had grown incredibly pale. An impressive feat, as the girl already possessed quite ashen skin. Clarke could practically hear Parker's pounding, terrified heart. But Clarke needed Parker and the others to understand the situation they were in if she wanted them to survive even a month here. She continued speaking, looking at the others with purpose. "So you ask, can't we leave? Can't we go somewhere else to survive? Where will you go? You know nothing about this world. Literally nothing. And even if that's enough to get it through your heads that you're in danger so long as you're defiant, do you think the queen will ever let you leave? Sure, you could eventually earn enough of her trust to go out on scouting missions or in fights. But you'll have to come back. Otherwise you'll be a deserter. And do you know what the Azgeda do to people that are deserters?" Clarke had the story burned into her memory. The one Lexa had told her when Lexa, Anya, Gustus and Indra had all visited the Azgeda once. That deserter, Cardan. He hadn't deserved that. No one had. "They're strung up, alive, have a hook put through their bodies, and slowly have their bones pulled out. Again, their wounds are cauterized so that they don't bleed to death. Don't want your deserters to die _too_ quickly."

Clarke slowly turned back to the rest of the equally terrified group. "So," She began, "Anyone else think that this is a joke? In the Azgeda? They won't care that you're juveniles. They don't care that some of you are as young as fifteen or sixteen or younger. They just see bodies that they can use as soldiers. And if you commit a minor crime? No problem. The torture will harden you. Make you a better soldier. Stop. Being. Stupid." Clarke felt like this was partially coming out the way she wished she had spoken to the 100 during the first couple of weeks on Earth. "And if you don't survive the torture? No problem. It will just make the army stronger. Because those that weren't strong enough for the torture are out of the way. You might think you had it so hard on the Ark. And maybe you did. But here? It's worse. Much, much worse. Do what you can to survive. Keep your heads down. Do what you're told. Or don't. Don't and die slowly and painfully. Either way, do what you want. Another group was dropped on Earth. You might have heard of them on the Ark. The 100? I was one of them. They did whatever they wanted and a lot of them didn't survive. There are only forty of us left. We dropped here before all of you and we landed in a much more hospitable environment than this, and seven of the 100 died in the first couple of weeks. Think the twenty-six of you will last? Like I said, there's only forty of us left. How many of you do you think will be left if you keep acting out like this?"

Clarke shrugged as she went back to the boxes, looking at the balm and the stitches, "Either way just decide what you're going to do next and get it over with." Clarke grabbed the whole box and brought it over to one of the wooden benches a couple of feet from the ravine filled with burning coals and sat down with the box next to her person. She pulled out the large roll of stitching and the bottle of balm, one in one hand, the other, the bottle of balm in her other hand. "So," She said, giving every last new juvenile delinquent on Earth a neutral expression, shaking both her hands in emphasis. "Who needs to be looked at first?"

Everyone was frozen for a few good seconds, but slowly, déjà vu of what happened in the dungeons took place. One by one, each delinquent came up and pulled off parts of their clothing, showing their bruised or cut wrists, ankles, backs, knees, shoulders and so on. A nervous Blair Campbell, who if Clarke had to guess, were it not for the clearly young Lorena, was the youngest of the number, and looked up at Clarke with frightened, green eyes. Clarke tried to ignore the pang in her chest at being reminded of the timid Fox and the traumatized Charlotte and Jasper. Those frightened eyes of Jasper as she slipped the knife into him, ending him before the Grounders could get to him flashed into her mind. Jasper had been so fragile, so frightened. He would never have been able to survive long on the ground. He just couldn't. Every time Jasper flashed in her mind, his bright, terrified eyes looking at her pleadingly as he was tied to a post, primed to be given the death of a thousand cuts as punishment for opening fire on a village of women and children, killing fourteen people in a state of trauma, she remembered how Monty stared at her with murder and accusation in his eyes over killing his best friend and brother after Monty had been told by Bellamy after the Mountain what Clarke had done to save Jasper from torture.

But she couldn't live in those memories anymore. She had another problem now. She had left the 100. Fox, Monty, Wells, Finn, Monroe, Octavia, Raven, Bellamy, her mom, they were probably all better off without her. Probably all happy without her too. They weren't her concern. And she wasn't theirs. Their lives were probably better now that she had left. She had just been a constant reminder of Jasper's death to Monty, and a reminder of how harsh and brutal life was for Fox, amongst other things.

It was better that she had left them.

She eyed Blair. "It's Blair?" She asked, though she already knew. The black-haired girl nodded her head, frightened. "Alright, Blair." Clarke said, putting the roll of stitching down on the wooden bench, next to the box. "Let me see." Blair rolled up her left sleeve, showing Clarke the cut that looked deep. It was across the young girl's arm, thankfully above the elbow and below the shoulder, so it wasn't anywhere near either the heart or the wrist. Good. Clarke nodded. She looked at everyone.

"The first batch of you will be those with deep, easily infected cuts. I'll see to the rest after that." After her announcement, she had gathered up those that were in the most danger of getting infected severely. Blair, Hodge, Sabine, Finley, Glenn, Kristin and Cody. After a great deal of whining from each person, whining that Clarke efficiently ignored, with the exceptions of the occasional soft comments that the teenagers were doing great and the occasional pats against their shoulders, (none of which were genuine for her, just another duty) Clarke succeeded in sanitizing their wounds, stitching their wounds up, then wrapping the wounds, taping the bandages closed.

Clarke noticed after she was done with them, that Blair was sitting very close to her. The girl, who Clarke now suspected was no older than thirteen at the most, was sitting down by Clarke's feet. A little too frightened to lean against Clarke, but not wanting to be too far away from her either. Clarke tried not to snort painfully. Blair was wrong to think she would be protected with her. She wasn't a protector. She was a murderer.

She always would be.

She simply proceeded with looking at the last of them, Hodge's cut back and patched it up, he gratefully thanked her, grinning as the others had. After he had gone to stand with the others outside of Blair, getting out of the way, Clarke inspected those that she hadn't looked at yet. "Well," She said, "Anyone want to show me any broken bones or severe bruises they might have?" The next batch came up. Edmund, Simone (who Clarke now realized was Sabine's twin, they seemed to be the same age and they looked almost identical), Bobbi and Casey.

Casey had a broken rib. Bobbi had two broken fingers on her right hand. Edmund, now that Clarke had a good look at the boy who had to be about only sixteen, was bruised all over his shoulder and the right side of his chest, and Simone had a black eye.

Clarke sighed. It wouldn't make any difference either if she didn't do anything, would it? Either way, she was just buying time. She'd patch them up as best as she could. And that was all there was to say about the matter. She was just keeping them alive until the heartless Grounders started to kill them.

 **Yeah, Clarke's in a dark place right now.**


	2. The Azgeda Dogs

**Note:**

 **Part of this chapter will take place eight weeks after the first chapter and the second part will take place five months after that, six months of Clarke being held by the Azgeda.**

 **I have a question, where is the Azgeda located?**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 2: The Azgeda Dogs:**

 **First Half of the chapter:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

The dropship had been hidden in a lake of ice. The frozen layer of water had been set ablaze with fire, the dropship wrapped in thick chains and ropes, bound to boulders and metal weights. More than fifty Azgeda men and women pushed the hunk of metal into the lake, getting it successfully into the freezing waters, watching as the dropship sank into the waters' depths, the flat, round, wide top disappearing as it was weighed down. The Ice Queen knew how deep that lake was. Knew the lake would freeze over in only two minutes or so. She knew that almost no one went to this lake. The dropship would be hidden for a long time. Perhaps forever.

Those that weren't sworn to Nia in absolute and knew that the twenty-six were of the sky, knew no longer, as the queen had had…accidents arranged for each of those that knew and planned to tell the Commander. No one outside of Nia's closest guards and their sworn soldiers would know. The guards that had been sent to push the dropship into the lake had been those that the queen knew would never betray her, ever. No one else knew where the twenty-six had come from originally.

And that was good. Nia, Ontari and none of the Azgeda closest to them wanted anyone to know that Sky People had fallen in this area. The Commander was trying to bring the Skaikru into the Coalition. If she learned that there were any Sky People here on Azgeda land, she would try to remove the twenty-six prisoners from the Queen's ranks. If that happened? They no longer would have any hold over Wanheda. And that was not a possibility that the queen was willing to take. The twenty-six would not be discovered as Sky People. If the Queen could prevent it, no one would _ever_ find out.

The twenty-six were, by extension of Clarke, of Wanheda, their future queen and wife to Ontari, now Azgeda Tribes people.

When news of the dropship had reached Clarke, she had almost laughed bitterly. Of course. The queen was getting rid of the evidence. They couldn't risk anyone finding out who the twenty-six were. That was why. If the Azgeda lost the twenty-six, they would lose their leverage. Their hostages. And while it was of course a dirty, disgusting thing to do, like everything else the Azgeda did, it couldn't be any less or more disgusting than anything else the Trikru or the Mountain Men had done. Clarke, an hour later had confronted the twenty-six and explained what had happened to the dropship. It had been the dungeons all over again.

Edmund and Blair had both looked terrified. Parker, Cameron and Jesse had been outraged. There had been panic and fear for a great deal of them till Clarke had told them loudly to shut up. She had told them as calmly as she could how it was going to be, how Queen Nia had arranged it. They were hostages. Simple as that. They were prisoners. And if they tried to escape they'd die. Since the dropship had been hidden, it had been because of the Coalition. After Clarke had explained what the Coalition was and that the Sky People were already here and were being negotiated with (Clarke herself had barked out a laugh at that, since Lexa was actually trying to repair the damage she had done? Right, that was funny) and should the Commander find out that there were twenty-six people in Azgeda territory, being held prisoner, she would attempt to rescue them to prevent a war.

At least, that last part was what Clarke had told them. Maybe if Lexa found out that some Sky People were here, she _wouldn't_ try to rescue them. After all, the Commander would sacrifice everything for her Coalition. If that meant possibly avoiding war by turning the other way while a few Sky People were held captive and said nothing about it to the rest of the Sky People and the 100, that really wouldn't have surprised Clarke at all. The Commander _did_ still let the Azgeda into the Coalition, despite what the Ice Queen had done to Costia. The Commander wasn't very good at actually _taking_ risks for all her talk about being strong and brave and making sacrifices. So Clarke genuinely didn't know if Lexa would even raise a finger to help these twenty-six. Considering it was so easy for Lexa and Anya both to turn their backs on the Sky People, made up of eighty people, plus the 100, which were only forty of them left, it was very, very likely that the Commander wouldn't give a flying damn about twenty-six measly Sky People.

So when Blair had asked Clarke if they'd be free if the Commander came, Clarke had been honest with the girl. Completely and utterly honest. She didn't want to be like the two women she had been in love with. She didn't want to lie to these kids like Lexa and Anya had lied to her. She had told them the truth. She didn't know. She had no idea. The Commander might save them to solidify the Coalition, but she might also let the Azgeda keep them if it meant not starting a war between the tribes. That was the two possibilities that Clarke knew. It had hurt to see Blair shudder in fear and to see the poor girl cringe. But Clarke had told the girl the truth. It was harsh, but it was reality.

It looked like with every piece of information Clarke gave the twenty-six, the twenty-six delinquents grew paler and paler. By this point it was a surprise that they hadn't fainted and remained unconscious. A couple of weeks after they were mostly healed up, save for the still aching bones and the cuts that needed to be watched, and almost four weeks after the dropship had been dumped into the lake, the lake freezing over only hours later, covering the dark, icy depths, the twenty-six, on Queen Nia's orders, began their first day of training with Clarke. She was their teacher now. And had been doing so for a month and a few weeks now.

Which left Clarke and her…well, her "students" in this current situation, in present day.

The swing to her side was blocked under a second and the ankle hand an arm hooked around it, flipping the leg, the young boy attached to the leg, Farron, a ten-year-old Azgeda Seken who Nia ordered Clarke to train alongside the twenty-six delinquents, went spinning into the charging Sabine and Casey. Farron collided with Sabine and Casey, all three of them going to the ground. Clarke didn't even need to turn around to sense the two other "warriors," about to charge her, Dallas and another Azgeda youth, Aron, a girl at the age of twelve and snapped her hand out, catching Aron by the throat, pulling her up and flipping her over her shoulder at the pile of three fallen children, her right foot snapping out and hitting Dallas square in the chest. The fifteen-year-old Dallas crashed to the ground from the force.

The piles around them also consisted of the totaled teenagers that Clarke had sent down onto their backs and sides, groaning. They were bruised up in only a few spots. Clarke sighed, not wanting to hurt these kids but knowing that that was part of the deal if she wanted them to be safe from Nia and Ontari's wrath.

Clarke hopped off the edge of the wooden platform, dropping on her feet on the stone floor. She grinned, looking over every last one of them again. Having pleading with the queen enough and getting the queen to agree to allow Clarke to train all of the twenty-six, she succeeded and now she could lay witness to the currently unpromising groups of defeated delinquents. The twenty-six water recycling station prisoners, now Azgeda students training to be warriors, were not a promising bunch. But then, Clarke doubted she had been herself was. Sure, she had been trained by the Trikru, by Anya, by Lincoln, by Ryder and by Lexa herself, and was still being trained by other Azgeda warriors, but she knew she had a lot to learn about being a warrior just like these twenty-six did. She was guessing Octavia hadn't been entirely promising herself. When you haven't been trained since childhood, training could come off as very clumsy.

It just meant that Clarke and these twenty-six would need practice.

Blair, who almost against her will, Clarke had gone easier on than the others, got up from where Clarke had tripped her around her left ankle and toppled the girl over onto her side. The black-haired girl headed over, looking at her fellow slowly recovering teenagers. Blair had the bow-staffs in her hands that Hodge had tried to use against Clarke and handed them to her teacher, smiling. Clarke smiled back, nodding. "Thank you, Blair." She said, looking down at the cracked weapons of crafted wood. She looked up at all of her students. This would take a while. No way around it. Like the 100, this group would take patience. That meant nothing though. Patience had come to her easily the moment she had given up the moment she realized her relationship with Lexa and Anya had been completely false. Based on lies.

Clarke walked up to the tangled mass to the left, pressing both bow-staffs on the grounds by their ends, using them as walking sticks. This little mass consisted of Glenn, Mario, Edmund and Finley who were slowly getting up, groaning all the way to their feet. Clarke smirked at them, observing the young, redheaded, Irish girl, Finley, of nearly seventeen years, the dark-skinned, sixteen-year-old Edmund, and the shorter but stockier, blue-eyed, brown-haired, Polish Jewish descended Glenn and the skinny, Italian descended, coal-haired, emerald-eyed Mario, both of fifteen years. They would scrape and get bruised to get to being warriors like she would, but it was manageable.

If Octavia could do it, so could these kids. Hell, these kids were less stubborn from what she could tell. Way less of sticks up their rears than some of the 100's asses. Especially less than the sticks that had been up Miller's ass or Bellamy's ass.

"Well," Clarke acknowledged, laughing, "This marks the end of our eighth training week. You guys could do better." The teenagers looked at their white and black fur covered feet, abashed. Blair came over and nodded, red faced. Clarke eyed Blair and felt something at her chest tug, Fox and Jasper popping into her mind again.

Before she could stop herself, she raised her right, free arm and pat Blair's back, making the girl stand up straighter, surprised and confused. "Considering you guys just got here two months ago," Clarke snickered, "You guys did...okay. But better than the first forty times." She was grinning and some of the others, Edmund, Bobbi, Beryl and even Parker got the idea and grinned with her, their confidence slightly boosted.

"Now then," Clarke announced loudly as the stragglers reunited with the group, "I'm going to take you to the medic center. See if any of your stitches or bandages have come lose. See if anything needs any more balm. Follow me." She walked past the others with Blair following very closely behind, the others following as well. They got to the medic center, sat down and Clarke one by one looked at each of them as she had come to do in the past month of being here, teaching these kids. She had learned a great deal about them.

She hadn't cared about them as she might have once had, but she knew that knowing about their lives would help them develop into their lives here. Blair had been abandoned at the age of eight. Her mother was a drug user. Clarke had a hard time not being reminded of Raven and her heart almost broke. Almost. Blair had been taken in by the system until at the age of eleven, Blair had gotten really hungry and had stolen some food. She ended up in the Skybox for two years before being sent down here.

Simone, Sabine and Lorena, as Clarke had gathered, were all siblings. Simone and Sabine were twins, so that couldn't be helped. But their mother had then had a third child, Lorena, two years later. It couldn't have been that long after Octavia had been born. Just four years after the stubborn brunette's birth. This had been discovered a year ago. Their mother and father had both been floated, and Lorena had been put into the Skybox. When Simone and Sabine attacked some guards to stop it, they were arrested too. Thankfully, all three of them had been too young to be floated. Beryl had nearly been attacked by a guard who had been looking at her funny. Clarke hadn't pressed about it, but she understood what Beryl was getting at. She knew what the guard had tried to do to Beryl. Beryl had fought back and her mother had died and Beryl had ended up in the Skybox as a result. Clarke had smirked at Beryl when the young girl had given her that story. _"Good for you."_ She had said, _"You made that creep know he couldn't mess with you without a fight."_ Her praise had made Beryl stand a little straighter and taller, her head higher when she walked when the girl had told Clarke that story four days ago and Clarke had given her that response.

Casey, Parker, Bobbi and Dallas had all stolen food and medicine for their respective parents. It had ended with those that needed the medicine being floated as "accomplices" and the kids being put in the Skybox. Clarke's jaw had dropped when she had learned all that Pike had done. Pike hadn't been a saint but he had just been an average person that taught her and Wells Earth Skills. How could he be such a tyrannical chancellor? It looked like Pike was really abusing his power. Even Thelonius Jaha had known better than to float a person that had nothing to do with the crime. Well, aside from children born of the crime anyway. The parents hadn't had anything to do with their children's decisions to become thieves. But it looked like Pike was desperate to survive. If that meant he had to float everyone for even the most minor of things, and anyone related to that person, then so be it.

West and Finley had been friends prior to being locked up. They had plotted to steal food, medicine and water for those that seriously needed it, but couldn't afford it as well as Pike and his people could. That plot had been what had gotten them locked up. Bailey had stolen a gun during one of the riots and tried to kill Pike. Clarke had almost spit a river of her ale out of her mouth when she had been drinking it from a wooden cup when Bailey had told the older her own story. So Bailey had some guts, huh? And she hadn't even done it to get on the dropship like Bellamy had done. Bailey had done it just because she was sick of Pike. The sixteen-year-old, gutsy girl was lucky Pike hadn't immediately floated her for that.

It was a good thing Bailey had been on the Ark when she had done it. Otherwise, Bailey would have been dead meat. Down here, as Clarke recalled with Raven and the so-called Commander, you didn't even need _evidence_ to call for someone to be executed. You just needed suspicion down here to order someone executed by torture. That was just how the Trikru were. Cameron, Hodge and David had all bonded over making light of the craziness on the Ark and had pulled a nearly dangerous prank. Dangerous, because it almost had blasted open the airlock doors. The three had been tossed into the Skybox in less than a heartbeat. Kristin had punched a guard in a drunken state. Martin had lied about not knowing anything about seeing Bailey grab the gun that she had almost killed Chancellor Charles Pike with. Cody and Jesse had both desperately needed food, and had stolen it, and had gorged themselves before being caught. Glenn had been starving and had killed someone for two weeks worth of rations.

Glenn, when realizing what he had just confessed to, had looked at Clarke nervously, Clarke had just shrugged at the boy. A year and a month ago she might have judged. But two weeks worth of rations? That wasn't nothing. Certainly not on the Ark. And Glenn likely hadn't been in any position to "honorably" seek out his own rations. She had seen much better conditions down here than on the Ark, and people _still_ killed each other over food. Grounders were innocent? _Riggghhtt._

Mario had committed the same offense that Jasper and Monty had. He had stolen some exotic plants, wanting to get high. That was nothing compared to Paul. The guy had stolen literally loads of drugs to sell on the black market. Avery had gotten into a fight with a bunch of other kids who had made fun of her for sleeping with other girls, bullying her over her sexuality. She had caused the most harm to the boys, so she had been locked up. Frank had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had just happened to be there when the criminals that had been West and Finley had run off and had been arrested. Something else Clarke knew wouldn't have happened had Jaha been in Pike's place. Say what you would about him, but the man wouldn't have floated or arrested anyone without proof unless he was absolutely sure it would save oxygen. And now there was no reason for it, given the lack of mass of people up on the Ark.

It looked like Charles Pike hadn't adapted to the lack of mass of people on the Ark. Absolute power was not good for the man.

Christopher had gotten into a fight like Avery had. This time it had been over his drunken father who supposedly beat Christopher's mother. Christopher had of course been caught. Then there was Edmund. When Clarke had asked him, Edmund had refused to answer. Clarke had pointed out that Edmund's crime or misdemeanor couldn't have been any worse than Bailey's or Glenn's. Edmund had just shook his head, looking away, beautiful bright brown eyes haunted. Clarke had understood that it would be too painful for him to talk about it and knew there was no benefit to it. So she just didn't ask about it anymore. She simply told Edmund that she'd listen whenever he wanted to talk about it and had let it go from there.

Most of them, like the 100, were from poorer not so well off families. The reasons for Hodge, David, Cameron, Paul and Mario had made such foolish decisions, had been because they took everything lightly. That had been because their families were better off. They hadn't thought they needed to worry, even though death usually came quickly on the Ark.

Then there was Finley and West. While not borderline wealthy like her and Wells's own once people had been on the Ark, they had been well off. Just not well off enough to get food and supplies for the lower class. That's why they had stolen. Avery was from a quite well off family. But her "transgressions" apparently had been unforgivable. When Martin and Parker had tried pull that "you're from a rich family wah, wah, wah, boo-hoo" crap that a great deal of the 100 had tried to pull with her and Wells, Clarke had chewed them both out, punching them both in the jaws, shocking them. She flat out spat at them that none of them had time to discriminate based on who Avery or anyone was related to. That was none of their business. There was no time for that. Life was too short, especially here for that.

If they wanted to waste their time on such trivial matters about who was related to who, then they could go ahead and waste their lives. Die here in Azgeda instead of surviving. At the twenty-six's aghast looks at that proclamation, Clarke had just shrugged and gone off to sparring with one of her teachers, Ratow.

If they wanted to waste their time and die quicker, then that was totally up to them.

Then there was the matter of the Azgeda themselves. While yes, Queen Nia _had_ given Clarke the _privilege_ of adopting and training the twenty-six herself, and had a few additional Azgeda kids like Farron, Aron, and a some others, two girls; Micah, Lane and a boy, Linden trained by Clarke, there was a question of how long that would be allowed. The twenty-six's safety depended only on how useful they made themselves to Nia and Ontari in the coming months. Not even years. Months. There was much to do on Earth. Even more to do in the Azgeda, as it was a very hostile environment to survive in. Even more precautions had to be made than in usual Grounder territories.

Clarke understood Queen Nia's protection for what it was. Protection, for a price. Not just Clarke's services, but the twenty-six's as well. The twenty-six would have to be very promising servants and bloodhounds for the queen and her heir if they wanted to survive. Clarke had made it very clear to them. They served, or died. Submission or being skinned alive or pulled apart. There was no in-between. That was just how the queen had arranged it. There it was. The obvious knife to the throat. The knife to all their throats.

She had given the group that lecture and they had all looked like they were getting ready to piss themselves. Thankfully, Blair clinging onto Clarke had kept the young girl from doing just that. Bailey had looked sick when she had understood what kind of situation they were in. Pretty much everyone either looked ill, numb or like they would rather be anywhere else except in an Azgeda tribe at that moment.

Now that all of the twenty-six were patched up, Clarke got up from her sitting position off the bench, being done looking at the small cut on Farron's back, sterilizing it and covering it up. The young boy turned to her, grinning. Clarke gave a small smile back. Farron wasn't so bad by Azgeda standards. Though Clarke supposed no Azgeda was. They were just trying to survive. They were just trying to survive the hellhole that was Azgeda and the Ice Queen. They acted a certain way to survive the society they lived in. Clarke had always known that, even when she had first heard of all the stories about the Azgeda.

Farron was a child and didn't ask for any of this. No child would wish for a life like this. That was why it was dangerous to raise children as warriors from age seven or six. They won't have a childhood. Farron was no older than ten. Even younger than Blair. And he was such a sweet boy. He knew he couldn't hug people or smile at them when his father was around, not unless he wanted the rough and burly Tenmar, a war wrought man who had been hardened by the battles before the Coalition had been formed, to beat his son as a form of a lesson. And he certainly could never display those shows of _weaknesses_ when the Ice Queen was looking. The woman would have him taken from the group and thrown into the fighting pits to toughen him up. Clarke had made it very clear that it was okay for Farron to show that stuff around her and the twenty-six because they wouldn't tell. But he couldn't do that around anyone else. If there was one thing that Clarke had learned around the main Azgeda territory in Queen Nia's kingdom, it was that anyone could be listening in or watching when you thought that they weren't. And many people were looking for rewards from their queen.

It didn't matter who they had to stab in the back to do it. It was just here, it was far more obvious than with the Trikru. Because _here,_ the Azgeda didn't pretend it was anything but their own survival and their own opportunities that they cared about like the Trikru did. The Trikru would do the same thing, they would just pretty it up with words like "justice," "honor," "loyalty" and "integrity." False reasons. Lies. Excuses. They were just as cowardly and cutthroat and underhanded. The Azgeda were just honest about it. Hell, the people of the Ark were even more honest than the Trikru in how cutthroat and selfish they were. Lexa had been right about one thing. The people of Polis really _had_ changed Clarke's view of Grounders. There had been a time she had thought them simply survivors. Needing to adapt in a harsh environment. She had thought them all to be good people at the core. She had been proven wrong. What happened at Mount Weather when Lexa and Anya had betrayed everyone else had told her truly who the Trikru were. Liars. Manipulators. Backstabbers. Those that were far from being incapable to slit children's throats in their sleep and steal their provisions. That was just who they were. The only difference was that the Azgeda made sure people knew that that was who they were. The Trikru hid it.

After Clarke had made it particularly clear to the twenty-six what the group would have to deal with, she knew at some point, she would have to tell them about Lexa. About Anya. About the Trikru and Polis and all the other tribes and the villages that made up the tribes. And the so-called well-kept Coalition. If they were to survive Earth, they had to survive _all_ of it. And that included the dangerous backstabbing world of the Trikru. Those that would leave their allies in less than a heartbeat. Clarke knew she had to decide a good time to explain how this world worked to the kids. Explain how the Grounder system worked, as well as she knew how it worked for someone who wasn't from Earth originally could.

She would have to tell them at some point.

About the treacherous Trikru. And about the things the Trikru had done to the 100.

After she was done instructing them, if they wanted to go ahead and do something stupid and get themselves impaled on some Grounder's sword, then that was completely up to them. But until then, she would need to inform them of the dangers in the world.

As Clarke herded the group out of the medic center and down the hall to the main courtroom where the queen was having her feast, they made small, quiet chatter, her, Farron and the young Azgeda keeping their faces neutral masks, and the twenty-six new Sky people trying to do the same, but their facades breaking every now and then with some joke here or there and they would laugh. It didn't matter. They needed to pretend they were devoted killing machines, not statues. The group arrived at the main court, going into the steel, stone and bone crafted, cavernous room, lined with wooden tables where warriors sat and ate. Farron bowed at his waist to Clarke, ran to Queen Nia and Ontari's thrones and bowed to the both of them before being nodded away and he joined his father, Tenmar who barely acknowledged his son. Aron and Micah did the same before going to their families' tables, Micah to her parents' table and Aron to her parents' table. Lane and Linden, being orphans of previous battles, chose to stay with the twenty-six and Clarke.

Clarke and her group walked to Queen Ni and her daughter and they all went down to their knee, bowing their heads. The queen waved her hand, a dry remark leaving her in direction to Ontari that Clarke heard, "You would think by now that Wanheda would know that she doesn't have to bow. Oh well, it keeps her bowing to us." Clarke tried not to roll her eyes. That was the point. As long as she kept up the appearance that she was subservient to the queen and Ontari, then she could keep her head more easily. That was all there was to it. No loyalty, no deceit. Just pure survival.

After they were dismissed, Clarke, Linden, Lane and the twenty-six rose to their feet and went over to the nearest table. Though the feast at this court was reserved for only the best warriors, and the twenty-six, plus Linden and Lane weren't even close to being counted as full Gavsos (which meant Sekens in Azgeda language) yet, let alone warriors, them being vouched for by the mighty Wanheda of all people had gotten them a great deal of attention and benefits, like eating here in the queen and princess's presence.

Clarke and the others sat down at the table, Clarke sat on the side that faced the queen and the princess, her back to the opposite court's wall. Flanking her sides were Cody, Blair, Frank, Martin, Cameron, Parker, Linden, Lane, Dallas, Avery, Finley, West and Jesse. The spaces on other side of the table was filled with the mass of Mario, Paul, David, Hodge, Edmund, Christopher, Beryl, Bailey, Simone, Lorena, Sabine, Bobbi, Kristin and Glenn. None of the twenty-six even jumped at the blasting of the huge, long, brass and wooden horns from the balconies, the sounds booming through the hall, reaching the tables. They had heard the horns enough times during training, eating and scouting that they were used to the noise by now.

The tables were covered with silver and glass platters, stuffed with cooked beef, rabbit, mutton, ram meat and arctic salmon. A couple of arctic bears had been caught and properly butchered and cooked. Slabs of their marinated meat were offered to Clarke and her group. Wanheda got the first say on what she ate at the table. Clarke just nodded to the servants holding out the platter of bear meat, and with her sharp utensils, sharp as daggers as all utensils in the Azgeda were, she pulled off two slabs of the arctic bear meat and dropped it onto her plate. The closest servant girl, Hunisa, poured a pitcher of ale into Clarke's silver goblet in front of her plate. Hunisa, the servant in question, beautiful face framed by long, rich, ebony locks looked at Clarke, smiling and gave her a smoldering look before pouring some ale into the next person's cup at the next table.

Clarke tried not to glower. Being "Wanheda" did have its pros. Like being able to keep the twenty-six safe. But none of those pros involved people throwing themselves at her. One of those pros was _not_ how many people whispered about her and gawked. Like she was a marvel. Like people couldn't believe that she was real. And some of them, like Hunisa, tried to garner... _special attention_ from her. Next to her, Frank smirked. "Goodness. No offence, but I'll never get why you get so many girls trying to get into your pants, Clarke. I mean, you're hot, but-"

Frank was nudged hard in the side by Lane who shook her head at him, disgusted. "How many times have we told you? Klark is Wanheda. She's the destroyer of the Mountain and savior of the Ripas. You will show some respect." Clarke sighed, shaking her head as the rest of the twenty-six took their food from the middle of the table, not bothering to even ask for people to pass the food, as Clarke pointed out that the Grounders didn't give a damn about manners, so long as those manners were addressed to people in power. She watched Frank lower his head apologetically, grabbing at a piece of recently baked bread and tearing it in half. She shot a worried glance at Lane who smiled at her and then went to slicing at a piece of beef on her plate. This was yet one more thing she had been worried about.

The kids in Azgeda, like Lane and Linden, Farron, Aron and Micah, they looked up to Clarke, respected her. Worshipped her as a hero. Lane was no older than twelve and Linden no older than fourteen. They were being taught that strength was the only thing that mattered in the world and two months ago they had been told that the boogie men that they would have to grow up with, the Mountain Men, were all dead, thanks to Clarke. They all saw her as "Wanheda" and saw her as a hero.

It never got easier for Clarke to know that. It was why she had left her people in the first place. Because she didn't want to have to keep being reminded of what she had done. Staying with the 100, with her people would make her remember every second of what she had done, and she had known it. It just proved how screwed up this world was. Linden, Lane, Farron, Aron and Micah and all the children like them could continue romanticizing stories about Wanheda and her strength and power. In the end they were just proving how foolish and susceptible they were to this world's deceptions. She was no hero. She was a mass murderer.

Clarke proceeded to eat and did her usual duty of making sure that the others ate plenty as well. If they were going to not break every bone in their body the next set of training, they'd need to keep up their strength. Clarke watched Beryl, Parker and Martin grab up their pieces of beef and eat before she took her next bite. She allowed herself some amusement when she saw Blair and Mario fight for a piece of fresh bread even though there were plenty of slices next to their hands.

 **(Page break)**

 **Six Months after the Mountain: (This second part of the chapter takes place five months after the part above)**

 **Polis:**

Anya arrived at the main room, Lexa awaiting her teacher on the throne, raising her head and standing when her Fos was only a few inches away, Indra and Titus besides Lexa, flanking her.

"Where is she?" The Commander asked, voice even, intense green eyes locking with Anya's deep brown ones. Anya, grim faced as usual, maintained her calm voice, eyes never flickering face never showing signs of a flinch when she spoke and gave the foreboding news. "Heda, forgive. Klark, she's in Azgeda. The Ice Queen has her."

Lexa's mouth parted as her head raised, horror searing into her. The Ice Queen, the woman who had murdered Kostia, had Klark? When news had reached Polis of the Mountain falling at Klark's hand, both Leksa and Onya had known that all of the tribes would be vying for Klark's power. They would want her head to gain her power. And the Ice Queen had her. "How long has she had her?" Leksa asked, her voice almost possessing a tremor as she demanded the answer. Onya maintained a solid, cool expression, but Leksa could see Onya's impulse to reassure the other woman, but her stiff hands stayed at her sides. They both had known that the decision they had made at the Mountain would be a terrible decision to make. But a necessary one, though Leksa knew that Onya would debate that. The Mountain Men's forces were too strong, their technology too advanced.

Onya didn't believe that they couldn't have taken the Mountain Men down, but Leksa did what she thought was best for her people. She protected her people as Heda and that was what mattered. But Onya and Leksa both knew that Klark would not see it that way. When Leksa had ordered Onya to go back to the Mountain to make sure Klark was safe and Onya had found with her warriors what she had found, the Mountain decimated, everyone inside dead and Klark gone as her people left to go back to their camp, she knew that their bond with Klark would never truly be the same.

This latest news, that Klark was with the Azgeda, kept the cold serpent of fear slithering about, biting its fangs into Onya's very blood. Klark was with the Azgeda. The Ice Queen had Klark at her mercy. Onya bowed her head to the Commander. "Send me to the Ice Nation." Onya requested. "I will bring her back personally." Leksa observed her teacher. Her chest felt tight and painful. She couldn't lose Klark. Not again. She couldn't go through this again. "No. Both of us are going. We're going to bring her back. We'll find her." "Heda," Titus protested, voice offended as he stepped closer, "I implore you, do not leave Polis. You cannot trust the Azgeda scum not to turn on you as soon as you are in their territory."

"Silence, Titus." The Commander ordered, snapping her head to stare at the Fleimkeepa. "You will not interfere in retrieving her." The Commander fixed Titus with a dangerous stare. Titus appeared stricken a moment before he nodded and backed away, going back to the side of the throne obediently. Anya had lifted her head, appearing startled for once since she had returned. "We are both going, Heda?" Leksa heard the unease in Onya's voice. She was not going to protest against Leksa's orders, but the Commander could read the many wild flashes of concern that briefly appeared in her mentor's eyes before the older woman kept her eyes a calm, solid brown.

The Commander would have scoffed, had Klark not been involved in this. Someone having doubts that she would be safe when going to confront the Ice Queen? That alone was not just insulting, but dangerous to imply or even hint at. But because Klark _was_ involved, it made the matter very complicated. "Do not question my decision." Leksa announced to everyone in the room, eyes going to Anya and making sure the older understood the meaning behind her words, "I am going to the Ice Nation and bringing Wanheda back to her people. I will hear no more of it."

Leksa could feel Indra stiffen up next to her in protest but noticed the older nod her head. None of them could do anything to keep the Commander from going, so they maintained their stance. Pleased, at least by both Titus and Indra's obedience, Leksa kept her eyes locked with Onya's and announced to her calmly, "We're arranging a trip to Azgeda now. It will take us a month to reach its shores. Leave with me today, Onya." The blonde did not protest. Leksa could see the older was tense as well as Indra had been, but the older still bowed. "Yes, Heda." Leksa gave a nod for Onya to move and her once mentor turned on her heel and went down the hall. Leksa turned to Indra and looked from Indra to Titus, "Have the council watched while I am gone. We will return as soon as we can with Wanheda. We are going to go to Skaikru's camp now. Remain here."

Both Indra and Titus bowed, answering in monotone voices, "Yes, Heda" before Leksa turned and followed after Onya down the hall. She knew she was taking a high risk by doing this. If she left that would leave Polis in danger of the council making decisions without her supervision, but if the Ice Queen had Klark, Wanheda, that was an even higher risk that they couldn't take. With Wanheda in her grasp, the Ice Queen would become strong and have the backing of the council. And if Nia chose to kill Klark…

Leksa's walking increased in its pace as her mind brought up that dangerously unnerving possibility. No. She couldn't think that. She couldn't. Klark wasn't going to die. She wasn't going to die. Leksa, almost numbly rushed after Onya, feet hitting the floor faster and faster as servants and guards bowed and stepped out of their Heda's way.

Onya had slowed down at the door to the long, black, steel stairs leading down and turned to the Commander. "Heda," Onya spoke, her voice firm but the Commander could see the increasing unease in the older woman's eyes, "I am not questioning your choice, but if the Skaikru learn of where Klark is, will they not try to stop us from bringing her back?" The Commander's jaw tightened. She didn't like the thought of Skaikru interfering, but if Klark _was_ in Azgeda hands now, her people needed to know. "They need to know." Leksa answered, no emotion betrayed in her voice or on her face. "If Klark is in danger, and we don't tell them, that risks endangering the alliance." Leksa heard Onya's question without even hearing the unsaid words as the older looked at her once Seken. _Isn't the alliance already dead?_

Leksa didn't respond at all, just walked down the steps and she heard a sigh behind her before Onya's footsteps followed her own. The current, very fragile alliance. After Klark had felled the Mountain, Leksa had tried to reestablish an alliance between their people and the Skaikru, now that the threat of the Mountain Men was not looming over them. There was no immediate threat to their people. So a permanent alliance with the Skaikru was possible now. If they got Klark, they could even make the Skaikru part of the Coalition if Klark bowed to Leksa.

But if they kept this information about Klark from the Skaikru, they could become harder to control. They could start protesting in anger. The Commander didn't like thinking that Belomi, Reivon, Abi, Wels, Fin and Oktevia would be coming with them on the mission to retrieve Klark. She knew how the five of them felt about her and Onya. It would likely result in anger and accusations on the trip to the Ice Nation. But they all needed to know. They would all be on their way to the Azgeda. She would bring a militia of her people to the Ice Queen's doorstep.

The Ice Queen would not kill Klark as she had Kostia. Leksa would not wait another day and expect to find Klark's head brought to her bedside or Onya's.

Leaving Polis's tower, Leksa and Onya reached the circle of horses tied to the wooden banners, meant for such a purpose. The warriors lined up next to the horses greeted their Heda, then their general. Leksa called out her orders roughly in Trigedasleng to the generals before her, "Gather each of your armies. Be at my back. We will go to Skaikru's camp. Do _not_ harm any of them. We are there only to bring them a message. Then we will be going to the Ice Nation."

She watched as the generals' faces scrunched in confusion and some in shock and some in caution. She got her answer for at least one of their reactions when one of the the generals of the Yujleda stepped up, appearing emotionless as he spoke in Trigedasleng, "Heda, forgive me, but why are we going to the Skaikru? Or to Azgeda? Is it because of Wanheda?" The Yujleda, Barvin, spat out the word, "Wanheda" and Leksa almost reached for her sword. Almost. She heard a growl next to her and saw Onya about to advance on Barvin, but she held up her right hand, blocking Onya from moving forward. Onya's hand was over the pommel of her knife, ready to pull it out and cut the other general for his words against Klark. Leksa almost envied Onya for displaying what she wanted to do as well. But she just answered, her voice hardened by ice when she spoke next, "Yes. It is about Wanheda. The woman who slayed our enemy who has been hunting our people for years and years. This is about the hero who ended the reaping of our tribes and our sons and daughters and mother's and fathers. This is about saving the woman who turned Ripas back into men. Wasn't _your_ sister turned into a Ripa, Barvin?"

The large, scarred and muscled Barvin bit back a growl, shoulders tensing. She had hit a tender area. His younger sister of only eighteen years, Tiya had been taken by the Mountain Men, turned into a Ripa by the Mountain Men. She had eaten human flesh. And was a forced soldier of the Mountain until Klark cured her. Tiya was still grief-stricken by the things she had done as a Ripa, but she was back to the woman she had once been. Her child, who had been born the year before she had been taken by the Mountain, now had his mother back, Tiya's homon had his wife back, and Barvin had his sister back. And it was because Klark had ordered all the Ripas be cured.

The commander continued, not letting Barvin get a word in, "We owe a great debt to Wanheda. And to the Skaikru. We are going to Azgeda to bring Wanheda back to her people. And offering a place for the Skaikru in the Coalition. Another word from your traitorous tongue and you will have your tongue sliced out." The threat was not an empty one and everyone that heard the Commander knew that. The Commander did not make idle threats. Barvin froze and took a step back. He then bowed his head. "Heda." He responded, not daring to look up again at the woman. The Commander just nodded, fighting a smirk at Barvin's now humble appearance. No one would threaten or insult Klark. Not in front of her or when she was in earshot.

She barked out the command for her generals to gather their warriors. They called their consent back and turned, running to where the lines of soldiers stood, waiting.

Leksa could feel Onya smirking, pleased. It was exactly the way Onya would have reacted.

Although Onya had been getting ready to gut Barvin.

The two warriors walked towards their horses. Leksa reached her black horse and Onya reached her brown one. The guards helped them up onto their steeds. Once each woman was mounted on the beasts, they rode towards the oncoming soldiers who went to their own horses.

It was time to leave, to go to the Skaikru's camp.

 **Author's note: Where the heck is the Azgeda? Heck, where are any of the tribes? Until someone tells me where the Azgeda and the other tribes are located, I'm saying Norway. Also, I need to get this off my chest. The group of the 100 prisoners don't deserve Clarke.**

 **There are going to be spoilers in what I rant next, so if you don't want to be spoiled, don't read.**

 **It always strikes me as hilarious when Clarke seems to care so much about the 100. That's funny. They sure don't seem to care about her. I'm just saying, I know what I've seen. The most they seem to care about is what Clarke can** _ **give**_ **them. It's like they have no idea how to handle a situation, like cats stuck in trees. But when Clarke actually steps up and acts as a leader to help them, they immediately go all "how dare you." She has to make the tough decisions. Are all of those decisions necessarily right? No. But is there a right decision under the conditions they're surviving in? You might argue that there is, but it's very difficult to see under the circumstances. But it seems to me, the only times that the 100 and the Sky People have ever cared about Clarke is when she has something to offer them.**

 **Season 1: Clarke tries to get food for everyone, people immediately start stigmatizing her just because she was related to people she couldn't help being related to. She tries to warn people there's a killer in their group, and there was. It was Charlotte, not Murphy, but there** _ **was**_ **one. The people needed to know what kind of danger** _ **lived**_ **with them. Sure, what happened to Murphy obviously shouldn't have happened, but people needed to know that one of their** _ **own**_ **was responsible for Wells's death. And think about Murphy's personality. It was only a matter of time before Murphy murdered someone. I mean, he would have murdered Jasper the night before just for "making too much noise" when Jasper was in** _ **pain**_ **and healing. Oh, and how about that time Murphy tried to burn a girl's face? Yeah, remember that? He thought it would "look better if we suffered first." He tried to burn a girl's face while trying to get her wristband. May I ask where people's excuse is for that one?**

 **What was the likelihood that Murphy wouldn't have done something like that again sooner or later? No one was safe with Murphy at that time. It was only a matter of time before he killed or hurt someone.**

 **Season 2: Clarke tries to warn people about the Mountain Men because she justifiably is suspicious of them. She would do anything to protect her people, even give up a warm bed and the promise of safety as long as she knew for sure that her people were safe, including from the Mountain Men. How does Clarke's people treat her? Oh, she's an "ungrateful ass," she is putting them in danger. Jasper, Miller, Monty, Fox, Harper and the others are won over so easily by cake, why can't Clarke be the same way? Why is Clarke such a spoilsport, you know, trying to protect her people and all that? Why is she always ruining the 100's fun? Wah, wah, wah, boo-hoo. She's so terrible, trying to keep the 100 safe.**

 **Then there's Ton DC. Was what she did the right decision? Probably not. But was it necessary? Maybe. But whatever you thought of what Clarke did, Clarke was doing what she thought was best for survival.**

 **Season 3: Clarke kneels for the Commander if it means that her people will be safe. She begs that her people be spared after Bellamy and Pike kill 300, having the "Blood must not always have blood" law installed with Lexa. What happens? Bellamy blames her for everything. And Clarke regularly is chewed out by the people she's been trying to save for not "doing enough" even though she and Raven are the only ones that have actually** _ **done**_ **anything and hold her as a scapegoat for literally everything that's happened.**

 **While I have stopped watching the series and since episode seven have realized that the series is a complete waste of time and the actors and actresses' talents, I** _ **have**_ **heard of the things that happened in the last couple of series that frankly shouldn't even have been made, they were so bad from what I saw and heard of them. I know that Clarke chose to take a bunker for her people over the Grounders. And while both you, the fandom and the people in the series try to judge her, Clarke is just doing what she's always done.** _ **Protecting HER people.**_ **She is doing what a leader does. Does that make it right? Maybe not. But there was a limited amount of people that could be saved anyway. Clarke and the others couldn't save everyone anyway, so the decision would have to be made anyway. So in this case? With such a situation that was like a gun to the characters' heads? I don't think any right decision** _ **could**_ **be made, because that idiot Rothenberg made the situation impossible.**

 **That's why you don't have stupid plots like the one Rothenberg made last season. If you want there to be a** _ **right**_ **choice, you don't make dumb plots where radiation will inevitably blast out all over the world and only a special number of people will survive. Sorry, but if you want any stance for morality, don't do a dumb plot like that.**

 **What's funny to me is people seem to be fine with Bellamy slaughtering 300 people in their sleep that were sent to protect Bellamy and his people, they forget that when he threw Raven's radio into the river, he got 150 or so people killed and yet the fandom still sees him as a sweetheart even** _ **if**_ **he's a coldblooded murderer. And what always makes me laugh is that the fandom's fine with the Trikru being ruthless and making decisions like leaving the Skaikru to die at the mountain as long as it was for their own survival even though it risked war again and it basically gave the Mountain Men, the Grounders' sworn enemies bone marrow and the ability to walk on the ground without protection.**

 **But when Clarke makes a ruthless decision for her people to survive, when survival has basically been their primary concern since the beginning? She's somehow horrible. Like I've said before in another story, be careful of that misogyny. You're exhibiting it. Let's just call a spade a spade, shall we? You're misogynists if you have that view. If you still champion Bellamy's selfish actions but are disgusted by Clarke's necessary ones, then that is misogyny.**

 **Oh, and this is very important to remember, misogyny is used in fandoms sometimes to champion some women and shame others. That's what this fandom does A LOT when comparing Clarke with Octavia. I get that Octavia has had it rough, but it doesn't excuse her saying that Clarke isn't doing "good enough." Octavia has never been forced to take on the role of leader and doesn't know the pressures or the decisions that have to be made. I know she's hurt that Clarke left her to die in Ton DC, but she has no place to judge. And the one time she** _ **does**_ **have authority in the last season, when she really has no right to be the leader, she almost gets humanity killed by trying to have** _ **all**_ **people in the bunker.**

 **How exactly would that even work? You need to make specific decisions about who survives in order to make sure that** _ **humanity**_ **survives** _ **long term,**_ **not just short term. And the Skaikru? They have more advanced experience with medical training.**

 **The Grounders? They're suspicious of advanced medicine. Remember how Anya reacted when Clarke tried to heal Tris? When Clarke tried to do something as small as getting rid of** _ **poisonous**_ **blood? Anya freaked out. And when Clarke tried to get blood for Tris, Anya backed away from the needle. Right, so the big bad Grounders are scared of needles. Yes, I see a very long term survival rate for all of humanity if the Grounders are the ones in the bunker. You know, people who are scared of advanced medical training? Yeah, they'll ensure humanity's survival long term. Suuuuurrrrrreeee.**

 **Rolls eyes.**

 **Sorry, I just needed to get that out of my system. And if anyone thinks I excuse the Ark people for their actions, think again. I'm just saying, the Trikru are just as bad.**


	3. Surviving as Well as we can

**Notes: Spoiler warnings for season 2 and the characters of season 3. Also, serious trigger warnings for violence in this chapter. People who are triggered by violence or easily made sick by violence, don't read the end of this chapter.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 3: Surviving as Well as we can**

 **Skaikru Territory, Arkadia:**

Monty Green tightened the wrench around the screw lodged into the water supply pipes. There were a few more main brigs that needed more screws put in. He walked around the end of the water pipes, past the chute where the fresh liquid would come out. The others, all of them, had been trying to get him to eat sooner than later. He glowered, remembering the last of them that had tried to practically force him to eat. Finn, Bellamy and Harper had been vehement. But they had backed off when Monty had practically pleaded with them to let him finish up the pipes. He needed to work. There was so much to do since the Mountain.

Arkadia had been repaired, bit by bit since they had tried to break open into the mountain. People, engineers, farmers, inventors, they had all contributed, working to gradually build back up a civilization up from the ground and the scraps of metal that surrounded them. After everyone had died in the mountain and Monty and Bellamy had watched Clarke retreat into the forest, running away from all of them, abandoning all of them, they had invented what they could as means of surviving here on Earth, despite the literal whole world trying to kill them. He, Raven and others had built multiple watermaines, troughs for the water to come through for them to drink, Octavia and Lincoln had taught them how to plant crops and water them properly, shown them where to place the rows of planted crops so that they'd be in direct sunlight, feeding the crops, helping them grow.

Lincoln and Octavia had been teaching them how to hunt for food and gather. By now, Jones, Gina, Sterling, Monroe, Finn, Bellamy, Miller, Wells and Harper were all reasonable hunters. Not as good as Lincoln was, of course. But reasonable. Of their number, Harper, Finn and Sterling were the best. They were the most agile and flexible. And Finn knew how to track the best. Finn had taken to teaching all of them how to track and to recognize footprints. Wells, Fox, Raven, Monroe and Sterling were getting really good at it. Monty knew that he hadn't been involving himself with the group hunts or the tracking sessions as much as the others wanted him to. Lincoln had advised him to come on the trips to learn. Octavia had just wanted him to spend time anywhere that wasn't only his bunk or in the work ground or in the damn camp. All of the 100 and Bellamy and Raven had gradually spread their wings and left their steel fence wrapped nest, wandering the perimeters. They were armed with sharpened sticks and sticks with flint and sharp, stone edges lodged into grooves of the sticks as spears when they went out hunting, the spears always propped up against the sides of the metal gates of their home.

The "council" of their people, consisting of Kane, Dr. Abby Griffin, Bellamy Blake, Wells Jaha, Gina, Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake and Lincoln had been making sure all of their resources were taken care of. Every base needed to be covered. And each of the 100 took turns making sure the rest of them would get out of bed instead of spending all day inside at their bunks, just sleeping instead of dealing with life. None of them wanted to. Some of them just couldn't. Their minds were still stuck in that mountain where they had been terrorized by the Wallace father and son and their people. Octavia was the most adamant that people get out of bed and "move on." She was so loud and insistent about it, not giving anyone an option about it. When Sterling, Monroe or Harper would resist, Octavia would slap them, yelling at them that they were weak. Bellamy, Lincoln and Raven would get her to stop and try to gradually help their friends get them out of bed and out of camp to just walk around outside. Just for a little while. Then there was Monty, who no coaxing in the world would be able to get him to leave. Even a thought of his that might stray from his work would bring him back to the mountain or worse, to thoughts about Jasper.

Since the mountain, the past seven months hadn't even seemed to be entirely real to Monty. There were days he still wasn't sure they had really gotten out. He would wake up in the middle of the night when he heard some of the other kids screaming in their sleep, haunted by the nightmares, blasted by memories of the Mountain Men and Dr. Tsing and her drill in the labs, and was sure they were still trapped in the mountain, still at the mercy of Cage Wallace and his men.

Sometimes when he smelled the gunpowder from the guards' weapons, his mind would flashback to when the Mountain Men shot at them, or when they had to hide while the 100 shot at Anya's army coming at them. He and the other delinquents were stuck. But after Jasper…after Clarke killed his best friend, and claimed that she "had to," that he would have been tortured to death by the Grounders if she didn't kill him. She claimed that if she hadn't given him a quick death, the Grounders would cut him and cut him a wide, Jasper-shaped whole had been carved into Monty's heart.

Monty hadn't been there when Jasper supposedly had opened fire in a small village filled with women and children, sick and elderly. He had killed eighteen people. Monty hadn't been there. He had been in the mountain at the time when the Grounders _claimed_ this happened. Clarke had been in the mountain when this had supposedly happened too. After Monty and the others had gotten out and Bellamy had told him what had happened to Jasper and why, Monty had found his eyes being glued to Clarke. To the person he had once respected and trusted and thought of as a friend and leader. The person that had betrayed him and Jasper. He had trusted her. Jasper had trusted her. So had everyone else. And now Jasper was dead because Clarke had put a knife into his chest. And because of her everyone in Mount Weather was dead. Including hundreds of children that didn't deserve it.

Monty's hand clutched hard around the neck of the metal wrench as he thought about it, getting back to work on the screws of the pipes. He needed to focus on his work. He, Sterling and Harper had made friends in the mountain. People who had tried to help them. And they were dead now because he hadn't gotten Clarke not to pull the lever. He had given Clarke the keys to pulling the lever. The codes to all the doors in the mountain would never have been wired to that one lever had it not been for him. He never should have listened to Clarke. And the Grounders? They had left all of them for dead and had forced Clarke's hands.

Monty grit his teeth together as he violently twisted at the screws to the right of him.

Across the camp, Wells Jaha kept reading his book, the cover and back of "Edgar Allan Poe's Greatest Works" gripped in his hands. He had gotten past the first several pages of the third story he had read. It was strange how a year ago, he would have found these stories slightly repulsive. But now, they felt so fitting to read.

Seeing all those bodies in the Mountain, seeing Clarke stand over all of them, looking at them with horror in her eyes. Knowing his childhood friend had done such a thing. Knowing that she would be haunted for the rest of her life, with all the deaths of the mountain men trapped in her head. She would have to remember all the dead children. The deaths of Maya and the other people that had just tried to help them.

Sometimes that was the only way Wells had been able to cope. By reading. Keeping his head stuck in books. Reading whatever he could get his hands on. That and helping Monty with his work or with Abby to help heal people. That was about it. Not much else worked. Finding out that Bellamy had been the one that had pulled the lever with Clarke hadn't helped him. At all. Knowing that Bellamy Blake of all people had been with Clarke in that room while and had pulled the lever with her, made him feel sick. Bellamy, the criminal that had shot his father and had talked about cutting Clarke's hand off to get her wristband had been with her during her most traumatic moments on Earth. Then he had just let Clarke walk away.

Wells had never forgiven Bellamy for that. He didn't hate Bellamy like he once had. He didn't see him as repulsive as he once did. He might even find a few admirable thoughts trailing on the thought of the other man, as yes, he did have his admirable qualities. Not many. But he did. He was fiercely loyal. Fiercely protective. Brave. But that was where Wells's respect and admiration ended. Wells knew who Bellamy was. It wasn't just that Bellamy had been the one to shoot his father. Wells always knew that his father floated people not because of any crime, but because he needed an excuse to kill anyone that wasn't him or his own people and had wanted to conserve oxygen. But there were plenty of other things he didn't trust Bellamy for. Like throwing Raven's radio in the river and getting 150 people back up on the Ark killed all to save the rest of the oxygen, because Bellamy was so selfish that all he had cared about was his own life.

Because of that, Wells had avoided the other man for six months now. He only spoke to Bellamy when he needed to. That was about it. Bellamy thankfully had given up trying to talk with Wells and try to "talk about Clarke." When Wells had heard Bellamy suggest that, he had almost punched the other man, not caring that it would get him into trouble. What a joke. Bellamy actually had tried to get him to talk about Clarke with him? That was such a damn joke. After Wells had heard that, he had nearly become convinced that Bellamy had hit his head too many times and was suffering from brain damage as a result. Bellamy didn't have the right to talk about Clarke. Not with him, not with anyone. Wells knew he had given Bellamy some rotten look when the other man had suggested that. He didn't remember how exactly he had looked at Bellamy, but it must have been a harsh look, since the older had actually paled and stepped away a bit. Wells had just avoided the older man whenever he could after that. Bellamy had given up after the first half of the second month after the mountain.

Bellamy thankfully learned his lesson. Wells Jaha didn't give a fuck about Bellamy or his authority. Then came the decision to form the new council. They needed someone to take control of Arkadia. They needed leaders. And while Bellamy and Kane were the obvious choices, they needed more people to form the council. They had wanted Clarke in power as well, but of course, that wasn't an option. She had left them. Who knew where exactly the traumatized young woman was?

Then the votes had been cast. By the grateful adults that were willing to listen to "children" and by the remaining 100. Wells had gotten a great deal of the votes to be on the council. So had Octavia. So had Raven and Finn. Abby unsurprisingly got several votes and was now part of the council. Then Lincoln had gotten on the council. That, no one had expected. While Wells was endlessly grateful for Lincoln, since there was a lot that would have killed them had it not been for Lincoln's help. Lincoln had saved Clarke's life multiple times. Wells couldn't have asked for a better person to be in the council with. The shock was that so many people had voted for someone that wasn't from the Ark. But why wouldn't they? Lincoln had ensured their survival. And when every single "Trikru" had left them in the mountain for dead on their commander's orders, Lincoln had been the only one that had come back for them, killing Cage Wallace.

But there was no another matter that Wells still didn't like acknowledging. Sharing a council with Bellamy Blake. He didn't mind Abby. Sure. She had let him take the blame for her husband's death, but Wells knew she had to do that. She was a mother. She couldn't lose her daughter. And Wells loved Clarke. She was like his sister. He didn't want her to lose both parents. He understood why Abby had done what she had done when it came to letting him take the blame for Jake Griffin's death. It was Bellamy that he still couldn't stomach. He acknowledged the older man only when he had to. But apart from that, Wells avoided speaking with the thug. It was an insult that Bellamy was still in power in any way. Bellamy had gotten 150 people killed on the Ark. Not to protect anyone. Not to protect the 100 or any other Ark people or Grounders, but to just protect himself. How could _anyone_ vote for him? But Wells kept quiet. What was the point now? He'd help everyone survive, since they shouldn't have to suffer just because _one_ selfish, entitled murderer shouldn't have the power that he had. But besides that? Wells was quite happy to keep his head buried in the sand.

His best friend and sister was gone. Possibly dead in some ravine or hiding from everyone, crying herself to sleep every night over what she had to do in the mountain to protect everyone. There was really no point anymore in putting up a fight over anything. Sometimes Octavia, Raven or Bellamy would try to goad a reaction out of him, but they had all but given up a while ago. Wells had seen on many of the remaining 100's faces the same look that he was sure was on his face.

The faces of ghosts. People who were lost. People who had given up on life and were just moving around like puppets made of meat. Wasn't that what they had become after what had happened? Raven, Finn, Monroe, Harper, Jones, Monty, Fox, Charlotte. They had broken looks in their eyes. Haunted. Wells sometimes wondered if they were really surviving at all. Sure, they ate, they drank, they slept. But that was it. There were times it felt like they were back on the Ark. Asleep like they had been on the Ark. Living, but not really living. A numb kind of living. Like they weren't really living.

Wells tried to forget that realization when he had come to it. But it was impossible to deny now. Maybe it was because it had only been seven months since the mountain. Maybe none of them really had had time to grieve, to let it all sink in and accept what had happened to them and that Clarke was gone. But Wells was happy to distract his mind from the numb reality that he and the others had to face every day. So he continued reading, sitting where he was on top of the wooden desk that made one of the camp's work places for tools. Raven was asleep last time Wells had checked. She wouldn't mind.

A string of many different horses' cries broke Wells out of his concentration. He gasped, almost dropping his book to the ground when he turned, shifting so as to fully look through the small openings of the gate, getting good glimpses of dozens of horses and the warriors sitting on top of them. The furs covering these people made it quite obvious who these people were. Not that the horses didn't automatically give it away. Grounders. At the front of the pack of horse riding Grounders were two women whose very presence made Wells clench his hands around the book. The two women that had left his sister and everyone else to die at the mountain. Women that Clarke had loved and trusted.

The Commander, Lexa. And her general Anya.

Wells slowly, almost sluggishly, pushed himself off the desk, dropping the book there on it and walked to the gate, legs hurting from not having moved them for a few hours. When the young man was only a few inches from the gate, he stopped, peering through the gaps in the fence, eyes meeting the green ones of the commander, then the intense brown ones of the general.

"What are _you two_ doing here?" Wells asked, not paying attention to the footsteps approaching behind him, releasing the series of crunches from the snapped twigs, telling him, had he heard the footsteps that people were approaching the gate from the camp, but Wells was too focused on the shocking and infuriating sight in front of him to notice anything except the Grounder women.

The large Grounder man next to the Commander spat, voice gruff, "You _dare,_ Sky boy! I'll-" "You will do nothing," The emotionless appearing Commander held up her right hand, silencing the man next to her. "We are here to call on the Skaikru, not threaten them." Wells started at that. Call on them? He knew that "Skaikru" was what the Grounders called people from the Ark. Really, call on them? The Commander thought she had that right after what she and her people had done? Wells was about to let loose the anger in his mind that he had become so accustomed to over the months, when the Commander spoke again, "The Azgeda have Klark. Every able-bodied Skaikru who knows how to use a weapon must come with us. The Ice Queen is going to kill her. Take her power."

All angry protests that Wells had thought up were now clogged in his throat. His eyes widened. The Commander knew where Clarke was. And Clarke was taken by the Ice Queen? Wells's heart raced. He had heard stories from Lincoln. And from Octavia because of what she had heard about the Azgeda from her teacher, Indra. None of what he had heard was good. According to Indra and Lincoln, the Ice Queen had Lexa's former lover Costia abducted, tortured and beheaded, leaving Costia's head at Lexa's bedside.

Bile returned to Wells's throat. His blood felt cold. The Azgeda had Clarke? "Ho-How do I know this isn't a trick?" He croaked out weakly, heart racing. Even _if_ the Commander really didn't know where Clarke was, Wells would rather that than the possibility of Clarke being in the hands of someone who would torture someone and behead them. Or, if Lincoln's words were anything to go by, skin someone alive. He'd rather Clarke be safe, hiding somewhere instead of in the hands of people who were so monstrous that being floated was the preferable way of being killed.

The man next to Lexa looked like he was about to explode in anger again, but the Commander held her hand up once more before she spoke, "We don't have time. We have to go help Klark." The Commander stared with meaning at Wells. "Do you want to risk not finding Klark? If she really _is_ in the possession of the Ice Queen? Do you want to live, knowing you did nothing when Klark needed help?" The anger was back, flaring harshly in Wells's stomach.

"You mean like _you_ did nothing at the mountain, when Clarke needed you? When we all needed you?" He snapped, teeth clenching. No other Grounder got a word in, because Anya sneered before anything else could be said, "Don't try to understand Heda's decision. She did what she had to. As did Klark. Now we have to go to the Ice Nation to protect her. We're going to save her. Will you?" Wells scowled, aware he probably should have been a little more scared by Anya's piercing, dark gaze. "So _now_ you're going to help Clarke?" But Wells turned back to look at the camp, about to call out for people to come over when he came face to face with Kane, Octavia, Lincoln and Monty. Monty and Octavia both stared darkly through the gate at the armed, intimidating group. Wells got the impression that Octavia was looking for Indra. Lincoln peered at his former Commander.

"Heda," Lincoln acknowledged, no emotion betrayed in his voice, "What do we owe this honor?" Wells would have barked out with laughter, had it not for the nagging terror over Clarke possibly being in danger.

"Linkin," The Commander addressed, nothing in her voice suggesting she was even bothered by the former Trikru being a part of the "Skaikru" now, "Wanheda is in danger. The Ice Queen has her. It's only a matter of time before she kills Klark. Takes her head. Gather all of the Sky People. Anyone that can fight, must. Their Heda is in danger." Wells would have glared but he found his eyes snapping back to the others. "We're not letting them in." Monty shuddered. "Yes, we are." Kane said, eyes flashing in fear. "I don't know what's happening, but if Clarke's in danger, Abby has the right to know." He turned to the fence and said hurriedly, "I just need to go to camp and tell the others. None of us can make this decision on our own. I hope you can pardon us, but I must ask you to wait."

Wells almost heard the Commander nodding. "Go speak with the rest of your people, Kane kom Skaikru. But return quickly. Klark is running out of time." Kane gave a grateful nod and ran back to the rest of the camp. The words that the Commander used, _"Klark is running out of time"_ made Wells shudder. What if she really _was_ in danger? Wells knew he couldn't leave Clarke to die. Not like Bellamy would. Not like the Commander and Anya would. He had to do something. He had failed in the mountain. He wouldn't fail now.

Without needing to ponder more on his terrified thoughts, Wells made his decision, going to the desk he had been sitting on before, going around it to the metal levers grafted into the floor, all wired to the mainframe that Raven, Monty and other engineers had rigged up. He ignored Octavia's startled cry of his name and pulled the first lever, knowing that the electricity would be drained from the fence, deeming it safe to be touched. As soon as he pulled the lever all the way down to the ground, he heard the humming that pulsed throughout the fence die out. He then grabbed the next lever, pulling it. He heard the foreboding creaking of the gate, signaling that it was opening up.

He turned to Octavia who now stood before him, staring in accusation at him. He shook his head. "Someone here has to look out for Clarke. Sorry if you won't." Octavia flinched, looking away. The accusation in that remark was a low blow and Wells knew it, but considering Octavia had flat out told Clarke that she hadn't "done enough" in the tunnel of the mountain when she had done everything she could for all of them, Wells felt it was pretty well deserved.

Once the gate was almost fully open, the commander and Anya began to move forward, the terrifying horde at their back gradually following them.

"Thank you, Wels," the Commander said to the dark-skinned young man who began walking towards them again, "I know this was not an easy decision for you. Now if we can speak with those that are in control in Klark's absence, we can begin to discuss our plan of attack on the Azgeda."

Wells swallowed, stepping up next to Lincoln and Octavia. "Um," He began as Lexa and Anya's horses towered over him, "That would be us."

 **(Page Break)**

 **Azgeda Territories: Norway**

Training commenced once again. That had been half an hour ago. Though Hodge was way more trained and muscled than when he and the others had first dropped down here, being much more muscled now after the six months of relentless fights, there was no chance that he would be able to take down this kid. It made Hodge more and more stunned and even a little annoyed. This was a kid. She was even younger than Blair. Hodge growled, trying to make his cry fierce sounding, even if it sounded ridiculous even to him as he lunged at Aron.

Aron, the young Azgeda girl of only ten years smirked and flipped out of the way, her right leg swinging out and her heel hooking into his jaw. Hodge cried out as he could feel his jaw split in pain, swinging away from his upper jaw. Impulsively, his arms went to his face, hands cupping his jaw in pain, eyes squeezing shut. His eyes and hands to his face he knew as soon as he did this, was a mistake. Taking your eyes off your opponent? Not keeping your arms up to guard your face? Big mistakes in battle. It would cost anyone their life if this had been real. Thankfully it was just Aron. So it was merciful that all that happened to Hodge next was a muscled, powerful fist to his stomach, making the boy double over, his head then grabbed as soon as he bent even a little, his face being brought down onto Aron's right arching knee.

He yelped, pained, his whole face now aching. His jaw, his forehead, his everything reeled in pain, he then felt a kick to his chest and he went stumbling backwards wildly, his entire face flaring in agony.

He careened into something hard, practically screaming when the said something grabbed him roughly and threw him into a pile of snow, body aching on impact, his face screaming at the sensation of the icy coldness against it before it started feeling numbed. Hodge hadn't even opened his eyes yet during all of it. He knew that Aron had to have thrown him back, but he had no idea who had shoved him into the snow. He got his answer a second later when he heard Aron's snarl.

"Flynt! What are you thinking?!"

Hodge tried not to jump when he heard the name. Flynt. An Azgeda young man, about twenty something who really didn't like them. Flynt refused to speak in English unless he wanted the twenty-six to understand that he was insulting them, but otherwise, he never spoke to them and whenever he had a conversation between him and someone else and any of the twenty-six were in the area, he would keep to his own language, whatever it was freaking called.

It sounded like a cross between German and Spanish. He wasn't sure how that was even possible, since he had learned pretty early on when he had been living on the Ark in classes that Spanish was a "romance language" and the bits he had heard of German were rough and harsh, but somehow, these people pulled it off. Clarke, who was one of the most literate people that Hodge had come to know, didn't know how it had happened, but their language just _was_ like that. Not to mention Bailey, who actually _knew_ German, because she had studied a lot of language novels on the Ark before she had tried to kill Pike recognized the bits and pieces that were German, but still had no idea how the languages could possibly have converged like this.

Aron said their people called their language "Azgedasleng" but Hodge just figured that was the dumbed down version for him and the others. Dumbed down to tell them, "this is just our own language, dumbasses."

It had been months but a few of them actually regularly spoke Azgedasleng fluently. Like Bailey, Kristin, Finley, Paul and a few others. They had the language down. But for Hodge, David and the others, it was like stumbling over blocks. It was a hard language to learn.

According to Clarke "English" was called "Gonasleng" here. A surprising number of Azgeda knew "Gonasleng." Aron knew a lot of Gonasleng. Aron's parents had been amongst those that were taught more languages than the less well off families. They were taught by the most educated teachers in the Azgeda kingdom. Aron was practically fluent in Gonasleng as well as Azgedasleng. It was how Hodge and the others knew _anything_ at all in this damn place when other Azgeda people didn't bother even telling him or the others what they were saying because they didn't deem Sky People as being worth their time. The twenty-six only knew what they knew because Aron, Linden, Lane, Micah and Farron translated all of the Azgedasleng for them.

Well, Hodge was hearing some pretty pissed off "Azgedasleng" right now from Flynt's furious mouth behind him. While Aron and the other Azgeda children had translated some words, there were a few words he didn't recognize, and frankly, Hodge had no idea what Flynt was saying, but Flynt did _not_ sound pleased. The twenty-something year old warrior spat at Aron angrily, and the much smaller ten-year-old spat back in their language as Hodge slowly got up out of the snow pile, on his knees, wiping away the bits and pieces of freezing powder from his chest and aching face. He turned to the scene, opening his eyes, the sight in front of him almost able to detract from the pain that stabbed at his face.

Aron, a small, dark-skinned, ten-year-old girl with only one scar on the right side of her face to mark her a "second" which apparently meant "apprentice," and was more muscled than a sixteen-year-old sky person like Hodge himself, had one hand on each of her hips, glaring up at the sneering and glowering Flynt, a muscle-bound man with his fierce, brown-bearded face, covered in scars he had earned with many, many victories in battle. Aron, young, dark-skinned and more fierce than any ten-year-old Hodge had ever met on the Ark, cocked her head and gave Flynt a warning glare. She spat more Azgedasleng words at the man. The words must have had some effect, since Flynt slanted his eyes at Hodge and the young boy froze, wondering if Flynt was going to lunge at him, but after that, Flynt spit out a dollop of saliva onto the frozen ground and turned on his heel, stomping away through the snow, going back to the armory of the Ice Nation.

Hodge breathed out a huge sigh of relief, wincing as soon as he did, since the action hurt his face again. Aron didn't seem so confident anymore, her puffed out chest sagged and she breathed out, smiling, walking over to Hodge, looking down at him. "Are you alright, Hodge?" She asked in English. Hodge snorted, mentally kicking himself for doing something like that. Because _damn_ , that hurt his face. "Alright?" He grumbled, wincing at every word, "Really? Alright? You break every bone in my face and then Flynt decides he wants to send me flying?" Aron sighed, voice strong as she spoke, "Please, Hodge, your face hasn't been broken. I promise you, you'd know if it was. You would be in much, much more pain if it was broken. And don't worry about Flynt. You bumped into him and he got angry. He gets angry too easily."

Hodge shook his head, "I think I figured _that_ much out. Thank you so much for your assessment of Flynt." He felt Aron stare at him and he looked up, staring into those dark eyes that was watching him with confusion. "What?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Assessment?" Aron asked, "What's that mean?"

"Oh," Hodge chuckled, face still aching, jaw howling in agony as he stood up off his knees, getting to his feet, standing over Aron. "Assessment means…" Hodge tried to think of a good word to compare to "assessment." A word that savages like the Azgeda who survived the apocalypse would know. "Study, I guess." Hodge summed up, glancing at the girl, hoping that was a good word to use. "Study of Flynt." Before he had to answer any more questions and deal with the pain in his face more, Hodge added, "Look, maybe my face isn't broken, but can we still have it checked? My face really hurts." He heard a snort from Aron. The young girl with her black hair tied up in a small topknot shook her head in disapproval. "You Sky People. You're so, so soft. When I was only five, my father made sure I could throw knives. When I was four, he made me break a man's finger to make sure I knew how to hurt people that tried to hurt me."

Hodge rolled his eyes, ignoring the chill of this information, simply blaming it on the freezing cold of their surroundings. "Yeah, thanks for that. I really don't want to think about a four-year-old breaking someone's finger. But I get it. Still, can we please go to the infirmary?" Aron nodded, gesturing for the older to follow her. "Come along, soft one." Aron said mockingly. Hodge glared, but followed. The sixteen-year-old and the ten-year-old went the opposite direction of Flynt, down the hill to the main medic building. The one where Clarke had tended to look after them before he and the other twenty-six had started their training was near the dungeons. But after they had started their training, their privileges had changed and so they were now allowed to go to the main medic building.

"What did Flynt say to you when you yelled at him?" Hodge asked, pulling his white and grey fur coat more tightly against him as the bone-consuming iciness encased them. Aron side-glanced at Hodge. "You probably don't want to know." She answered, "But he threatened to cut a very specific part of your body off if you bumped into him again. And when I say specific, I mean what you pee with." Hodge paled, clenching his legs together protectively. Aron added, "He didn't say it that way. He used another word. A word I'm not supposed to say. _'Burdo.'_ It's an Azgedasleng word for what boys specifically pee with." Hodge glowered, staring at the infirmary building. This was so not a conversation he wanted to be having with a ten-year-old. Yuck. Still, just went to show these people were screwed up. They shouldn't even be teaching children how to fight. Let alone talking about cutting peoples' you-know-whats off if they pissed them off.

Aron continued, not displaying any sign that she noticed Hodge's discomfort. "I told him that I would report to the queen that he was interfering with your training if he continued to do anything." Hodge nodded, still now slightly more terrified of running into Flynt again, thinking about what the man had threatened to do to him. Just slightly terrified. Threatening to slice off someone's dick just because you bumped into them? That wasn't harsh, that was nuts. Though the good news was, now he knew a new word. "Burdo." Which meant if he ever heard that word with any hostility, he should probably run. With something protective covering his dick.

But seriously, these people were nuts. Hodge, Christopher, Parker and the others had asked Clarke plenty of times how exactly people got like this on Earth, but Clarke had given them a grave look and just shook her head. She gave an answer that made Hodge feel like there was more to Clarke's answer than what she gave. Her answer had just been a callous bark of, "Hell if I know."

Clarke had been one of the previous prisoners that had been brought down to Earth. The 100. She said that there were only forty of them left, plus herself. She had told them over time that there were eleven other tribes besides the Azgeda that lived on Earth. She had told them all of the tribes' names, but Hodge barely remembered any of them. One was "Poda-something," another was "Boudalan-something," and one that stuck out particularly in Hodge's mind because of how Clarke's face had hardened when she had said the name. "Trikru." Hodge and plenty of the others had been startled at how bitter Clarke's voice had been when she had said the particular name of the tribe. Clarke hadn't been very explanative about her anger towards the "Trikru" tribe or clan or whatever it was. But he and the other kids _had_ heard some of the Azgeda said about Clarke. About "Wanheda." It was still a little weird thinking that another former person from the Ark was now considered a war hero amongst the tribes, but that apparently was what Clarke was to "Grounders." Grounders was what Clarke said the 100 had called people born on Earth. Sounded appropriate since the Azgeda and other tribes had been born on the ground.

But at the beginning, it had been kind of surreal to think that someone like Clarke of all people, who from what Hodge could tell, while wasn't a timid, frightened sky person like the rest of them, sure didn't seem fierce, was somehow considered a sort of "death commander." At least, at first it had been surreal. Yes, she had been strict when she had explained what they had to do to survive here, but she sure hadn't seemed like any hardened war hero that was legendary amongst brutal tribes like the Azgeda. Hodge occasionally had a hard time connecting what he knew about her now, the image he had of her now to the stories he had been told of her. But he had learned over time. Clarke was a force to be reckoned with. That was what he had learned over the past six months. Some of the stories he had heard involved clues as to why Clarke had such a grudge towards the "Trikru." The Trikru had betrayed Clarke somewhere down the line. Not that long ago, according to Clarke and some of the Azgeda who were honest about it. The Trikru had left Clarke and her people to die at some mountain. Whatever the hell that meant.

But whatever. All he knew was that they were in "Azgeda territory" and that they needed to stay alive here in this shit-hole. Boy, Hodge didn't know how it could get worse. Him, Cameron and David, they had laughed over all the shit that had been going down on the Ark. Sure, it had been awful. Sure, there were dozens of people that had died and that had been floated. But damn if they hadn't been able to make some funny, crude jokes over it. Between seeing a bunch of guards slamming together to get a door open, looking like sardines, to Pike kind of having a mental breakdown, it was hard not to make fun of the situation, because what else could you do under those circumstances? You were most likely going to die horribly, so why not make fun of the situation? David's own parents had become alcoholics and never bothered with their son. Cameron's parents had been floated when their daughter had been eleven. They had been caught stealing food for their child so the previous chancellor, Thelonius Jaha had floated them to save air. Cameron had grown up without her parents and so pulling those pranks a year ago, when Cameron had been fifteen had kind of been a payback to Jaha, even if the bastard wasn't even on the Ark anymore.

As for Hodge himself? His parents never cared that much about him. Sure, they had provided plenty for him, and they were hard workers, but there were times he had been sure they wished that they never had him. He had just been another mouth to feed. Hodge was almost grateful when he and David and Cameron had spent more and more time together so that he wouldn't have to see his parents much more. Then when he had been thrown into the Skybox and told he was going to Earth, he had actually been happy. Boy, if he had known what kind of an abusive shit-hole awaited him here, he would have practically _asked_ Pike to float him. It was so cold. Every second he wasn't wrapped in furs tightly enough he was scared he'd get frostbite and lose a finger or something. Or way, way worse, as Flynt had so politely put it, lost the thing he peed with. Whenever he went to sleep, Hodge had always triple-wrapped himself and four times wrapped his nether region in furs. On even colder nights, Clarke would order them to wrap themselves in seven layers.

It was especially sickening when Hodge thought of what he had heard from the servants about what had been done to the "Commander's" "homon," which meant partner or spouse in Trikru. This woman had been named "Costia." She had been captured, tortured and had her head taken off. It was times like that when Hodge was just happy that Clarke had been there that day in the dungeons a few days after the queen had captured him and the others. They had already been starved for a couple of days before Clarke had been brought in and vouched for them, sparing them a horrible fate.

Hodge looked down at his arm, seeing the wristband. It had been Clarke who had told them not to tell the queen what the wristbands did. Not unless they wanted the queen to take off their wristbands to make sure that the rest of the Ark couldn't come down. So all of the twenty-six kept it a secret about what the wristband did. All of them had their wristbands on. Save for a few who were being rebellious and wanted to lash out. Finley, West, David and a few others had taken off their wristbands without a second thought as soon as the queen had released them.

Thoughts of Clarke helping them brought Hodge back to questioning the things he knew about his leader. He glanced down at Aron just as they reached the massive, stone door of the infirmary, meant mainly for warriors coming back from patrol. "Aron?" He began, thinking about all the times he had seen Aron, Farron, Linden, Micah and Lane look at Clarke with nothing but respect. Hell, all of the Azgeda "Grounders" seemed to look at Clarke with respect. Even jerkasses like Flynt, when he was around Clarke, gave her nothing but begrudging respectful looks. When Flynt was around Hodge or one of the other twenty-six people that Hodge had come down with, he would be nothing but as disgusted and as harsh as he had been only minutes before, but when Clarke came into the room, Flynt would almost instantly stand up straighter and change his tone. At first, Hodge had thought that it was because Flynt had had a thing for Clarke. Not that Hodge would have blamed him. Clarke was hot.

But two months after they had landed here and had been taken prisoner, Hodge had come to realize it was more than that. He had seen how all of the Azgeda looked at Clarke when she was in the room. Flynt didn't just have the hots for Clarke. It wasn't that at all. And he had thought it might be because he was afraid of her or something. But he hadn't really been sure of that either. No. It was respect. Purely respect.

"Yes, Hodge?" Aron asked, no emotion visible on the girl's face. Hodge hesitated. He didn't want Aron to get angry at him. He knew that Linden and Lane particularly didn't like when Clarke's authority or reputation was questioned, but if he and the others were going to live on Earth with this tribe for the rest of their lives, then they needed to know more about what happened to Clarke. "Clarke is Wanheda, right?" Hodge said, thinking about the translation of that strange word. A translation that so did _not_ fit Clarke. At all. "The Commander of death, right?"

Almost automatically, Aron stood up straighter, her head held high in conviction. "Yes, Hodge," She said, leaning forward and pushing the doors of the infirmary open. The cold wind howled as both "seconds" entered the building. "She is Wanheda. Why? We've all told you this before." "I know," Hodge grumbled when he and Aron stepped in, closing the doors behind them, his flesh stinging as it had so many other times before in the past four months when training had intensified, with the change of temperature as soon as he was close to the metal arms that held up the flaming torches around them. The doors slammed shut behind them. "But I want more information. How did that happen? How did she get that name? You say she killed people in some mountain. And that she cured these creatures called "Reapers." And that she killed 300 Trikru people in a ring of fire. But what does that even mean? How did Clarke do all this? Trikru _is_ how you say the name of that tribe, right?"

Hodge's mouth hurt with all the movement he was having it do, but his mind was racing with questions, so his mind had been preoccupied. Aron nodded, looking stunned by Hodge's questions. As if they were offensive somehow. Usually when Azgeda people looked like that, it meant they were getting ready to punch you for something you did that offended them. Hodge braced himself, but Aron never swung either of her arms. She stared coldly at him then and snapped, "Don't say that too loudly or you'll lose a few teeth. Maybe your tongue. I'll tell you when we get to a room. But don't ask anymore questions here with so many other people." She shook her head, scowling. "You Sky People are stupid." Hodge glared, wanting to protest. When there wasn't basic information or orders or threats thrown at him and the other twenty-six, there were serious warnings. Warnings not to ever show disrespect. No disrespect to Queen Nia. No disrespect to Princess Ontari. No disrespect to any of their teachers. Their "Firsts."

And no disrespect to Wanheda.

As Aron and Hodge made their way through the hall, checking the different rooms on both sides of the halls, seeing if there were any available rooms. There was an empty room and Aron nodded to the stone made room with several wooden chairs stationed on the floor, the medical supplies in different wooden boxes next to the chairs. A large, wide, stone fireplace void of fire at the right of the room. Hodge went in with Aron and did what he had been trained to do whenever he was in a room in a freezing wasteland where if you didn't have an immediate fire handy, you'd die of cold and walked to the fireplace, taking the piece of steel and flint on top of the shelf above of the fireplace and Aron grabbed a bushel of straw from the wood and straw piles next to the fireplace, stacked up, nearly reaching the mantle where Hodge had gotten the flint and steel.

There was a newly placed pile of coal dropped into the nest of the fireplace and Aron dumped the straw onto it. Once she did that, Hodge, leaned forward, taking the flint in one hand and the steel in the other, smacking the items together, sparks flying out from between the objects and hitting the straw, the thin bushel of light tan hay, setting the hay ablaze. Bright orange tendrils erupted moments later, stretching into long fingers, licking at the straw, devouring it and turning the coals a bright red eventually.

As the fire began to grow, Hodge put the flint and steel on the mantle and turned to Aron, waiting for the younger's answers. Aron went to the door, made sure no one was coming and closed the door. She turned back to Hodge and pointed to the wooden chair up against the wall across from her. Hodge glanced at it and sat down. When he did, Aron went to the wooden step stool, sat down on it and grabbed a small stone that had been lying on the freezing floor, absorbed with the iciness of the snow around them. It felt like a solid block of ice in her hand. It would do better than any batch of ice or snow, because it wouldn't melt in a few seconds from the heat of the fire. She grabbed, with her free hand, a roll of gauze.

She'd wrap the weak boy's face in gauze, and wrap the stone as well, letting his face be soothed with it. "You know not to talk about Klark as anything but a hero, don't you, Hoge? Klark says she's not a hero, but I know the Az Kwin would have anyone's head for doubting Wanheda's greatness. And I don't doubt it." Aron smiled proudly, thinking of the night her mother had come back home, a victorious grin on her face and delivering what she had learned from Azgeda messengers in the village, to her husband and daughter. The Mountain had been destroyed. Everyone inside had died. The leader of the Sky People, Klark kom Sakikru, the same girl that had killed 300 Trikru warriors in a ring of fire and had turned all the Reapers back into men, had killed them all. The words had spread through villages no matter where they were in the world.

Klark kom Skaikru had killed all the Mountain Men. Klark kom Skaikru had saved them all.

That had been seven months ago. Aron had heard the stories a month before Klark's capture. When Aron had finally met Klark herself, met Wanheda when the warrior had been brought to Queen Nia by bounty hunters, Aron hadn't quite believed it. She had heard that Wanheda had been captured and her mother and father had made sure to be there at the court when Klark had been forced to face the queen and her heir, Ontari. Klark was so normal looking next to the legends Aron had heard for the past month.

Then the news had been shared with great triumph. Klark was one of them now. Wanheda had joined them and would be their future queen. Aron might have feared the Az kwin, but Queen Nia was wise, strong. She protected them all and made certain that Heda knew their wishes, knew that they were taken care of as much as all the other tribes were, though Heda likely would have seen all of Azgeda dead. And she would have too, had it not been for Queen Nia. Aron knew that they owed everything to the queen. And one day, their great warrior, the great Nightblood, Ontari and Wanheda herself, would be their queens. Nia was making sure they would be safe from the other tribes and from Heda herself for years, to decades by having Wanheda betrothed to Ontari who was now legally the prisa of Azgeda.

Even after the kwin eventually died, there would be two great, strong protectors to look after the people of the queen's nation ready to rule in her place for decades to come. In only moments, the queen had ensured her tribe's safety. Kwin Nia had gained thrice the respect that she already had amongst her people. And Aron knew her mother and father already possessed endless respect as well as fear for their ruler. Though she was only of ten years, Aron had learned a great deal from hearing rumors and being granted much knowledge from her mother and father of why their queen did what she did. Everything the queen did was to protect her people. And she had done just that. The Commander took all the glory, as usual. But the Azgeda knew the truth. The queen protected them all.

Aron smirked at Hodge, wrapping the gauze around Hoge's face, keeping the cold stone against his cheek, ignoring his flinching from the freezing sensation, keeping the smooth stone bound to his cheek by wrapping it. Once she was sure that the stone was secure, she leaned down and grabbed another freezing stone and put it to Hoge's face, putting it over the opposite cheek, binding it there with wrappings of the bandages. "Wanheda," Aron said, once she was sure she had Hoge's attention, "Killed all the people of the Mountain that once terrorized our people. People who stole us from our homes. Stole our mothers and fathers and family. Held us captive in the mountain, bled us, turned us into the Reapers, monsters that eat human flesh," She watched as Hoge's eyes became wide, seeing that the boy understood, "She killed them all. She poisoned all of them. And she changed all of the Reapers back into men. Azgeda warriors who were once stolen from our tribe have returned to their families because Klark cured them. That is why Klark is a hero. That is why she has nothing but respect from our people. You would be wise to do the same, Hoge kom Skaikru. If you wish to stay safe in Azgeda, do not show any disrespect at all to Wanheda. None. The kwin will do worse than take your tongue if you do."

She felt Hoge shiver. She saw that she had made her point. Not that Hoge or his companions from that metal ship needed any more reason to not say anything disrespectful. Not after what they had seen happen to the bandit, Rajjo who had attempted to steal a whole stable of horses, one connected to the other by rope that he had been planning to sell to the highest bidder two villages over.

 **Five months ago:**

 _The wind somehow seemed to be icier than it had been in weeks. Not even the four different layers of fur that covered the twenty-six delinquents kept the chills away or the made their lips less chapped and tortured. Before the group was a circle of guards, covered in furs, with white paint over their scarred faces, armed with spears and short swords._

 _The very first guard that stepped out of the ring of warriors, was one who the twenty-six had heard the name of before. Kavow, a seasoned general in Nia's army. A full head of ebony hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, the woman's intense blue eyes staring forward, on the bandit bound and gagged in the middle, struggling about in the snow and mud._

 _Kavow, the powerfully built woman of thirty years, who had been a general for ten years, with multiple scars on her face, moved forward and leaned down, grabbing the bound man's body, snagging his tied together wrists with her right hand, pulling him upwards, dragging him towards the stone wall behind her where a steel hook dangled. Behind the circle of guards, where Clarke and the twenty-six stood, plus the five Azgeda children Seconds, Aron, Farron, Linden, Lane and Micah, the group watched with sheer horror. Clarke and the Azgeda children hid it well though. Clarke said to the nearest number of the twenty-six, Casey, Cameron, Paul, Edmund and Parker, "You see? This is what I'm worried will happen to you. This is what will happen if we don't obey. This is what the Azgeda are. I'm sorry if that's too much to deal with. But it's the truth. This is what will happen."_

 _None of the others looked at her, but they all heard the dread in the woman's voice. Clarke was fearing this as much as they were._

 _Amongst the group, the only one of them that actually dared to look at Clarke was Beryl. The short-haired girl looked at her and the other kids' savior. She really looked at Clarke this time. Didn't stare or watch as she had before whenever she had seen the woman across the hall or across the fighting areas for training. She really could see Clarke at a moment of unease, of fear. Clarke's blue eyes were unguarded now. Filled with dread. Her lips were turned down in a grimace. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to see this any more than they did. Beryl saw something, something that made her thin chest clench. Something that reminded her of her mother._

 _Her mother, like many of the Guo women down the line on the Ark, given their lack of status and wealth had never been treated very well and so could not do much to protect those they loved. Or anyone. Beryl's mother had tried to protect her. Tried to protect her from thieves and thugs on the Ark who took advantage of the anarchy that was running throughout it after Thelonius Jaha, Abby Griffin and Markus Kane had disappeared, falling down to Earth. She hadn't succeeded. Beryl had been stabbed a couple of times and her father had been killed. Her mother died eventually from her wounds. Beryl had been saved at the medic's lab._

 _But afterwards, she had wished she had died. She still remembered the look in her mother's eyes when she had met her daughter's gaze as the blades of the Ark's thugs sliced into her flesh._

 _"I wish I could have done more to protect you."_

 _Beryl's mother had never said it, but Beryl somehow had heard it anyway when she had met her mother's gaze in that moment. Beryl saw it, the same exact thing in Clarke's eyes as she watched the older stare at the bandit, Rajjo. Clarke felt like she hadn't done enough. Beryl felt heat start to well in her eyes and she knew if she didn't do something soon, she might start crying, having to watch Clarke mourn for someone who she knew nothing about and had no connection to, and crying was considered the actions of a weak and worthless person in the Ice Nation. But despite all her talk about whatever the twenty-six decided to do "was up to them and only up to them," Clarke clearly cared about everyone._

 _Beryl, unable to take it no more once the bandit started screaming and Clarke refused to look away, her body shaking now with anguish, face twisted with the emotion, the younger girl moved forward, right hand encasing Clarke's clenched right fist, startling the blonde and making her look at Beryl in the eye. The shorter girl, squeezed Clarke's hand. Beryl said, voice quiet, despite the agonizing screams of Rojjo behind them, "Clarke, this isn't your fault." Clarke shook her head, voice bitter when it came out, "You shouldn't have to see this." Beryl cringed when Rajjo's scream hitched. She answered, voice trembling, "That's not your fault either. It's the queen's orders. And you told us that we have to do what she says or she'll kill us. It's not your fault. It's hers." As soon as Beryl said that, Clarke hissed, eyes widening in panic and looked around, "Don't say that! Someone might hear you."_

 _Clarke looked at Beryl with such an imploring look that Beryl immediately kept her mouth shut. But she didn't look away from Clarke. That was her first instinct and she almost did it, but she found the strength not to in the end. Rajjo's screams were so loud and earsplitting that they both knew with certainty that no one heard them. Clarke stared at Beryl painfully. "None of you deserve this." Beryl shook her head, "Neither do you." "You don't know me." Clarke said, eyes lifting up and she stared at the body that Beryl assumed was now dangling on the hook above and her face paled. "I do deserve this life." Beryl squeezed Clarke's hand harder, making her decision. Clarke was the one that protected them. She was the reason they were all still alive._

 _Beryl made a decision. She would protect Clarke and do everything to make her job easier._

 _Next to Beryl and Clarke in their interaction, was Parker, watching them. She turned back to the gruesome scene. Rajjo, the bandit, a round bellied man with wispy brown hair, was spilling his large guts out, the blood flooding onto a plump pile of snow, the pile turning a dark red. Rajjo's tongue slid out and hung from his mouth and his eyes became white as his screams started breaking into gurgles. Parker could feel bile rising in her throat. This was what Clarke had been talking about. Things like this. She had seen whippings be administered. She had seen a warrior slice off three fingers of a thief who had just wanted a piece of meat after an elk had been hunted down because he was going hungry. She had seen two Azgeda thugs attacked a whole family in a hut and had tried to rape the three young daughters. They hadn't succeeded, thankfully, but knowing that that nearly had happened was enough to make Parker want to get sick._

 _And she had seen both of those Azgeda thugs get skinned alive and watched their bodies get burned at Ontari's command._

 _She had seen the great Ontari herself, who was what the Azgeda called a "Nightblood," meaning she had black blood instead of red-(yuck) set a whole platoon of warriors on fire after dumping a monstrous bucket-load of flammable oil onto them. The platoon in question's "crime" had been to go against the queen's orders when she had told them to kill every family member of an attempted usurper. The family members of course had had nothing to do with the assailant's attempts, but Nia's law was strict. Not only must "Blood have blood," but according to the Ice Queen, all who were related to a traitor, had to be wiped out. Snuffed out like a disease. Parker was starting to learn that the queen had had this done before. She had heard the stories. Five years before she and the other twenty-six had arrived, two men of a section within the Azgeda tribe, a section referred to as the "AzNorto people," which translated to "Ice Bear People" had tried to throw a coup and end the Ice Queen's reign. There had been a spy in their midst that had reported everything back to the queen and the men's plans had been halted almost immediately._

 _What followed, if the stories Parker had heard from some men that had joked about it with each other in Azgedasleng and Linden and Aron had translated the story, Nia had had both men's entire families who had nothing to do with the plot wiped out, killed right in front of both men. Killed one of the men's wife, four children, three brothers, their wives, and the three brothers' children out. Some were only babies. Then the man's elderly parents were killed too. Then there was the second man who hadn't had nearly as big of a family but his wife, son, daughter, older brother and widowed mother had died just as brutally in front of him. Then came the two men's own punishment. Of course, by that time, both men prayed for death as neither of them had anything to live for after that, but Nia had not given them a quick death. No. She had thrown them in the dungeons, had the guards force them to eat so that both guards would suffer for the rest of their lives, knowing that they had lost everything. Both men eventually, and mercifully committed suicide years later. Just a year ago, the second man had smashed his head so hard against the wall that he bled to death from his head. The first man provoked a guard enough to stab him two years before that._

 _And the Ice Queen's reaction for the guards' failures in preventing the men's deaths? Every last one of them was flogged over sixteen times and the ones that had been stationed at the men's doors, had been skinned alive before they were burned. The Ice Queen knew of no mercy and made sure everyone knew it. And most importantly to her, made sure no one in her army granted anyone any mercy._

 _P_ arker's _blood chilled as she heard Hodge's hollow voice, "So this is our life now, huh? You know, maybe we were better off being floated."_

 **Author's note:**

 **Just a little extra rant. Regarding the 100. Those toxic teens. Who the heck wouldn't leave the 100 after the mountain? The ones captive inside the mountain, before they discovered that the Mountain Men were bone vampires basically said that they didn't want Clarke's help. Possible danger? Oh, they gave us cake and we'll be fine. You can't help people who don't want help. I know Clarke left because of trauma, not because she gave up on the 100, but I think I'd leave too, for that specific reason. You would too, if you had a brain. Just walk away from the toxic mess that is those kids, and especially their murderous leader, Bellamy.**

 **Don't believe me? Watch season 3. I've only seen bits and pieces, but damn if I wasn't proven right.**

 **You** _ **can**_ **leave a family if the family has become too toxic. And that includes a family that's not related to you. If they're abusive, you have the right to leave. And just remember, you can't help people who don't want help. You can't save people who don't want to be saved. Seriously, it's like the 100 leap onto swords and every time Clarke tries to stop them, they tell her to go fuck herself.**

 **I mean seriously, Clarke is doing literally everything she can for them, she's lost everything for them, and they treat her like crap. Raven should get away from them too, just saying.**

 **Oh, and don't even try to defend the things Bellamy has done. Don't even freaking try.**

 **There, another rant I had to get out of my system.**

 **And a little friendly reminder, Jasper basically triggered the war between the Grounders and the 100. He shot the archers in the trees at the bridge and triggered the war. And is Jasper ever held accountable for this by either any character in the series or in the fandom? No. He's treated like a hero in the series and the fandom loves him instead of calling him out for all the deaths he's caused, on both sides of the war.**

 **Again, JASPER JORDAN started the freaking war between the Grounders and the 100, which led to 28 or more of the 100's deaths. It led to 28 or more** _ **underage**_ **people to their deaths, and 300 Grounders to their deaths. Just a reminder. And yet somehow Clarke is to blame even though the ring of fire and the bomb at the bridge that she had Raven make was just in self-defense. Again, remember, Jasper triggered the war by opening fire on the Grounders at the bridge, when Clarke was trying to negotiate peace. There's only one person to blame for the actual war happening between the 100 and the Grounders and that's Jasper. Too bad no one in the fandom actually holds him accountable because of him having white skin and a dick. Am I really going to be the only one to hold Jasper accountable for all those deaths? Remember, having a dick and white skin does not absolve you of all crimes.**

 **Grounder words:**

 **Kwin: Queen in Azgeda**

 **Az: Ice in Azgeda**

 **Names:**

 **Klark: Clarke**

 **Onya: Anya**

 **Leksa: Lexa**

 **Hoge: Hodge**

 **Aron: Aaron**

 **Flynt: Flint**

 **Oktevia: Octavia**

 **Wels: Wells**

 **Fin: Finn**

 **Reivon: Raven**

 **Abi: Abby**

 **Belomi: Bellamy**


	4. The Uneasy Alliance

**Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 4:**

 **Huge trigger warning for this chapter: Attempted rape, victim blaming and eventual whipping. Again, trigger warnings for attempted rape, victim blaming. Skip this chapter if you need to.**

 **I cannot warn you enough, there will be an attempted rape in a flashback of this chapter, a victim blaming herself. Anyone with these particular triggers, do not read. I'll have the words, "Four months ago" above and either skip that part to the part that's labeled "Skaikru Territory," or prepare yourself.**

 **Lord Voldything 298: Got it, Canada, thank you. But I'll keep it in Norway, since fuck Rothenberg.**

 **Thing that Azgeda territory is in Canada. Ugh, I don't take anything Rothenberg says or does seriously anymore, do you? I'm just saying it's in Norway. Rothenberg could say that the sky is blue and I'd believe that it was green. That's just how much of a liar he is. Let me remind everyone of this piece of shit. He deliberately queer baited gay and lesbian fans with the promise of Clexa all the way into the third season, and well, we all know how that turned out. Any questions as to why Rothenberg's very word and his boner for letting Bellamy get away with literally anything are basically actual rotting trash? No? Let's move on then.**

 **Oh and I changed the title of the previous chapter and made that title the title of this chapter since I thought it fit better.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 4: The Uneasy Alliance**

 **Azgeda Territory: Norway**

The armed and training platoon of soldiers flipped the members of the twenty-six that were with them over their heads into the piles of snow. The groaning and cursing Edmund, Christopher, David, Bailey and Kristin gathered themselves up off the ground, leaping at the warriors with renewed zeal, Kristin and Bailey both letting loose howls as they made their charges. The two teenagers leapt onto the nearest warriors, Kristin grasping the man's face and pressing her fingers against his eyes, ramming her elbows and knees into his throat.

The warrior, Kartu snarled as he went down to the snow, only getting Kristin off by kicking his feet upwards and smacking the young girl off, making her roll into the snow. Bailey had taken another approach. One that startled the crowd of onlookers. She whirled in midair and kicked her right leg out, hitting the older woman who was standing at the ready right in the face with her booted foot. The woman, Benik stumbled back at the blow as Bailey landed on her feet, steadying herself before she toppled over at her own rapid movement. Laughter burst from the nearest soldiers to the scene. Amongst them were some of the twenty-six and Clarke.

The light blonde-haired young woman was having a hard time keeping her laughter down when Bailey charged Benik again, the both of them going over onto the snow. David, Edmund and Christopher were all so startled by the action that all three of them only charged then at the last soldier when it looked like both Benik and Kartu were incapacitated. Even a seasoned warrior like the third solider, Vaito, was having a serious problem holding off three charging young men, yelling their heads off as if they were in the battlefield.

Sitting next to Clarke, watching the ridiculous scene unfolding, were Beryl and Farron. Farron's father wasn't here so the boy regularly giggled at the embarrassing sight. Beryl smirked, leaning in next to Clarke and mumbled quietly, "Think Benik is letting Bailey win?" Clarke tried not to burst out laughing at the thought. It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. As it turned out, from what they had learned, two months ago, Bailey and Benik had become lovers. They didn't know how long exactly the relationship had been going on, but despite their surroundings, the manner in which they had discovered that Benik and Bailey had been together for a while had been more funny than it had any right to be in a place like this.

One might argue not, but it was difficult to argue that it hadn't been a humorous discovery when Mario, Blair and Clarke had come back from a hunting trip, Clarke, refusing to leave Blair alone in the wilderness, and they had stumbled on a secluded room that they had thought was empty, till they had seen a roaring fireplace and realized someone was using it and the three of them had found Bailey up against a wall, Benik flush against her, face buried in Bailey's neck and Bailey gasping with Benik's left hand literally moving around in Bailey's pants. Bailey had eventually seen the three shocked onlookers, eventually becoming two onlookers, since Clarke had covered Blair's eyes, and Bailey pushed Benik away, alerting the other to the three people that had stumbled onto them. A still stunned Clarke had quickly ushered both Blair and Mario out the door and had only turned back to question if everything Benik and Bailey was consensual.

Benik hadn't understood what that last word had meant so the still out of breath and copper faced Bailey had explained it. Benik's reaction had been priceless. Benik had turned completely ashen and had speedily explained to Clarke that she'd never force herself on anyone. Clarke had looked at Bailey for verification, and the other girl had given it, nodding. The dark-skinned Sky girl explained to Clarke that their relationship had started three months after they had landed. Benik was only a few months older than Bailey herself and so there wasn't really any big age difference and Clarke knew that privately, away from listening ears that Benik didn't agree with what Nia did to the twenty-six at all. Or what the woman did to any of her victims. But like all the warriors of the Ice Nation, Benik's family's lives were being held over her head unless she obeyed the queen's every order.

Clarke accepted their relationship as it was. The only thing that made her concerned was if the queen decided to use Benik's relationship with Bailey against one of them, if she ever found out. That apparently hadn't been a problem. So far. When the queen had found out, seeing Benik and Bailey coming out of a tavern and both drunkenly kissing each other she had barely said a word, simply saying that it might give Bailey more incentive to be loyal.

Bailey jumped down from where she had launched herself at Benik and grabbed the other young woman's right leg, pulling her around and throwing her into the snow. Benik snarled, kicking her leg out and hitting Bailey square in the chest, knocking the dark-skinned girl right over onto her back. Benik jumped up from where she laying, ebony hair in a ponytail snapping against her right shoulder with her rapid movements and stalked over to where Bailey was done on the smooth patch of ice. Benik tried to slam her leg down when Bailey rolled away, jumping up and swinging her right arm in a balled fist. Benik caught the swinging arm and threw the other girl into the snow.

"Ouch." Clarke mumbled, looking at the smirking Beryl. "Maybe not. Maybe they'll make up afterwards." Beryl giggled and Clarke felt the thing that had once been so rare start to stretch across her face. A smile. A real smile. She had found it on her face the more and more time had passed here with the twenty-six and the Azgeda children like Aron and Farron. Of all places for Clarke to find a type of happiness, Azgeda was not the place she thought she'd find it. And Clarke wasn't unaware that if she were anyone else and the twenty-six delinquents weren't tied to her by a coincidentally shared birthplace, her living situation, if she had had any living situation at all, assuming she wouldn't already have had her head taken off, would be far more painful and miserable than it was, as would the twenty-six's.

But despite that knowledge, against all odds, a horribly navigated and programmed dropship with the twenty-six had fallen somehow into Azgeda territory and the Ice Queen had used that to her advantage, capturing Clarke. And against all odds, it led to this. To Clarke and the others finding a strange and yes, brutal new home. Clarke grimaced as she thought about what Glenn, Christopher, Parker, Cameron and Beryl had been forced to do four months ago to make up for _her_ mistake in lying about a certain death. Clarke's eyes slanted to where Beryl sat, smiling at the scene, still unsure how the younger girl didn't hate her for what had happened. If Beryl and the other four being sent out as rabid dogs to serve Queen Nia's purpose hadn't been enough for Clarke to hate the queen, she wasn't sure how Beryl managed to hide her own anger.

 **Four months ago:**

 _Seeing a horse that had suffered a couple of pained slices to its powerful legs and could no longer carry its warrior be deemed "unfit to live" was hard to hear. It was even harder to see the very same horse have its throat slashed by the warrior that it had once dedicated its life to._

 _Ivarb, a slim, but well-muscled young man with scars all over his face and the back of his neck, with chopped short, black hair and a full, black beard, knew no mercy to those that were not useful to him. And his once tall, proud, grey stallion, Tuldel now knew that too as it bled out onto the ice below it, collapsing. Cameron almost shrieked, hands going to the pommel of her knife. She knew they weren't supposed do anything when the Azgeda did things like this. They weren't supposed to attract attention to themselves. Clarke had instructed them not to. But how could Cameron just sit back and do nothing when there was animal abuse going on? This horse hadn't been killed for food or fur like all the others had been. It had been killed because it wasn't of anyone's use anymore. Cameron felt her fingers like digits of steel wrap around the curved, wooden hilt of her knife, pulling out before she could think better of it._

 _All of them had been appointed a weapon of some kind. If they succeeded in a number of fights in the arenas, they would be awarded with more than just a couple of weapons. And better weapons as well. Cameron had a smaller blade tucked away in her belt and this one. But she wasn't as good at fighting as Bailey, Finley, Avery, Parker, Edmund, Simone and Sabine were. Even Paul, Mario and Christopher were better than her. And Clarke and the Azgeda "trainees" like Linden and the others were beyond compare. Well, at least when put next to a complete no-nothing on physical prowess like Cameron. They all had way better weapons than she did. The occasional exceptions like Blair, Hodge and Frank had worse weapons. Blair was too frightened easily and Hodge and Frank knew nothing about fighting._

 _Unfortunately, Cameron's movement must have caught Ivarb's attention, as the slim, strong figure snapped his head in her direction, dark brown eyes glaring at her as if she had personally offended him. He spat at her in his native language and Cameron stiffened, not recognizing what he was saying. Azgedasleng. Aron and the others weren't here to translate, but if his tone was anything to go by, he was not pleased. He spat out, saliva flying from his snarling mouth, pale white face now turning a light shade of red in anger. Cameron didn't care. She could feel the terrified nerves gripping her but she needed to get this out, she couldn't just stand by when a horse was killed for no reason. She would be the only one getting into trouble if she did this. Just her. She wasn't endangering anyone. That should have terrified her, but she wanted this man to pay for what he had done to that horse. Tudel had been old but sweet. She remembered Blair sneaking off from the food tables with dried fruits and feeding them to Tudel when Ivarb wasn't around. She had a dangerous habit of doing that with all the horses. Dangerous because if anyone caught her, she'd likely lose a hand for "spoiling" the animals._

 _Cameron released a scream, not caring whether or not this bastard could understand English, "You killed the horse! He didn't do anything wrong! You killed him just because you wanted to! You disgusting monster. You're a bastard, you know that?! Fuck you, Ivarb!"_

 _The unfortunate result of her screaming, as she found when a right, iron hand wrapped in flesh grabbed her around the throat, squeezing, the wrist of the hand holding the knife grabbed by the other hand of Ivarb, was that Ivarb very much did understand English. A grinning face leered at Cameron as the snarling young man leaned forward. "I know what that insult means." He growled in English. In Gonadesleng. "If it means what I think it means, I accept." His grip on her arm was so painful, she found her fingers being forced to release the hilt of the knife. It clattered onto the hard ice. Ivarb pulled her throat closer, his horrid breath against her face. "I've always wanted to know what Sky cunt feels like." Cameron gasped, horror grabbing her, breath being kept from her throat as her neck was squeezed._

 _To her growing horror, Ivarb was following through on his threat. The hand that had been on her wrist went to her pants, grabbing the hem and ripping them down, revealing the front of her lower torso. Cameron gasped as painful cold hit her bare lower torso. "Please," She gasped, "Cold…"_

" _Don't worry." Ivarb laughed darkly, "I'll warm you." His hand moved from Cameron's pants that were tangling in her legs now and brought it to his belt, undoing it. Cameron's eyes widened in sheer horror. She couldn't…_

 _He wasn't really about to…_

 _No, she hadn't survived the Ark for this. Just to be raped by a savage. Her hands instantly tried to slap at him, but he was too strong. Her hits only seemed to make him grin widely, spurring him on. She heard the dreaded noise of his clinking belt buckle being undone and saw the monstrous glimpse of his pants beginning to slide down his legs. "You'll be a real Azgeda now." He laughed, making Cameron want to puke. "Queen Nia might actually think you're worthy of us when she hears I was willing to honor you like this."_

 _Cameron could feel hot tears start to spring from her eyes, beginning to stream down her cheeks._

 _She heard that gruesome laugh again, followed by a strange "thunk" noise, then a pained groan, then a gasp. She dared to open her eyes slowly, watching as Ivarb became completely still, his grasp on her neck starting to loosen. Ivarb became pale, the grin gone from his face, and he started toppling over. Cameron gasped. And while she would have been horrified, thinking he still meant to rape her, the look on his face told her he was in no position to do such a thing. And she was proven right a second later as she backed out of the way, Ivarb's body collapsing onto the ground, on his chest, naked rear being hit by the cold wind, a thin, but long knife sticking out of his back, right where his heart was. Cameron released a choked laugh when she saw the weapon that had taken her would be rapist down. She pulled her pants up, hands trembling as she shook, still reeling, able to understand that she was saved. The sharp, serrated blade with its ebony handle, the bottom of the pommel encrusted with a gleaming blue stone was a knife Cameron would have recognized anywhere. A gift from Princess Ontari to her bride to be._

 _All the other weapons that the mighty "Wanheda" had were rightfully won from fights in the arena area, but this one knife was a specially made gift from Ontari herself._

 _Cameron finally lifted her head up to see Clarke standing behind the dead Ivarb's booted feet, staring down at his corpse with rage and accusation, body cloaked in her usual black furs. Another gift from the princess. All Cameron could do was give a weak laugh, almost sobbing. Clarke, for what had to be the eightieth time by now, had saved her. She had almost been violated and Clarke had risked death to protect her. It was very likely that Clarke would have to answer to the queen for this. But Cameron didn't have time to fear what punishment might befall Clarke. All she could think about was that Clarke had rescued her just when Ivarb had tried to…_

" _Clarke," Cameron groaned out, not believing that she could still be standing after what had almost happened. "Cameron." Clarke said, turning her head to look at the younger. "Are you hurt?" Cameron winced, pulling her pants up and tying them, hands trembling. That question couldn't be answered right now. Everything felt disorienting. Her neck and wrist hurt. But besides that, Ivarb had hurt her. Worse than if he had broken her wrist. He really had been going to do it. He really had been willing to treat her like cattle. Like an animal. Maybe worse. He might not have stabbed her, but it felt like he might as well have. That had been all she was worth to him. It was like the horse. These people abused whatever they could get their hands on. Anything they deemed weaker than them._

 _Clarke leaned down and grabbed the hilt of her knife, pulling it out of Ivarb's back, blood spurting from the wound, trickling off the blade as she flicked the knife about, the blood droplets flying about onto the snow and ice. Dumbly, Cameron leaned down and retrieved her own knife, putting it away, her hands still shaking. Clarke slid her knife into the brown, leather sheathe. A sheathe incredibly ornate with the decorations of bears, eagles, wolves and serpents all along the sides. Ontari had spared no expense with the making of the knife or of its sheathe. Clarke put the knife away and held her arms out to Cameron. "Cameron." Was all Clarke said, sadness thick in her tone._

 _Cameron whimpered, voice choked. She practically lunged at her savior, at her teacher and crashed into the older girl, arms wrapping around Clarke, the terrified, now sobbing girl letting her tears out into Clarke's neck and hair. Clarke didn't say anything. She just gently stroked her hand down Cameron's shaking back. Cameron couldn't help herself, everything overwhelmed her. Her life. Tuldel's life. Neither of them had meant anything to this man. Maybe to none of these people in Azgeda. Cameron couldn't help her pained sobs into Clarke. She hoped only that Clarke still had faith in her as a warrior after this. And that was the only thing she could manage to think as she was swept away in a storm of tears and weak sobs. Clarke soothed her, hand stroking down against Cameron's back._

 _After a few minutes passed and Cameron was sure, more than sure she didn't want to let the older girl go, but finally, she pulled her arms away. She took note, body still shaking, that Clarke hadn't let her go yet. Clarke didn't the younger, until Cameron's arms slipped off her. Only then did Clarke release her. Clarke stepped back, eyes meeting Cameron's, "Do you want to report this to the Queen?" Icy fear gripped Cameron. People knowing about what Ivarb tried to do. People staring. Blaming her. Cameron shook her head, whimpering. "No." She whimpered. "I can't. They'll blame me. I'll be responsible." Cameron sobbed, the image of what Ivarb had tried to do replaying in her mind, riddled with shame. She couldn't face anyone with them knowing what happened. She couldn't._

" _Okay," Clarke said gently, rubbing Cameron's back. "Okay. We won't tell them that. Cameron, I need you to promise me that you know that this isn't your fault, okay? Tell me that you know that this isn't your fault." Clarke stared at Cameron with meaning as the icy wind howled and Cameron shuddered, knowing Clarke was just trying to help. She didn't know that much about psychology but knew that victims of things like this tended to blame themselves. Still, the question just seemed to keep hitting her brain brutally. Why had she confronted Ivarb? Why hadn't she just walked away? Wasn't this her fault?_

 _"Cameron," Clarke said with emphasis, "Say it. Say it's not your fault. Please." Clarke's eyes softened to near pleading and Cameron swallowed and breathed out, not really believing her own words, "It's...it's...it's not my fault."_

 _Clarke nodded. "Remember it's not. Keep repeating it, even if it's just to yourself. Because it's not your fault. It's his." She nodded at Ivarb's corpse, face covered in disgust, "We won't tell the queen what happened. But we need to come up with something. We can't just destroy Ivarb and his horse's bodies. We're too close by the village and people will see the flames. We'll have to tell them something." Cameron whimpered and nodded into Clarke, the freezing, icy wind hitting her as she hugged her furs tightly close, feeling like the very air was going to stab into her flesh at any moment. She knew Clarke was right. They had to come up with something. If she wasn't going to be honest about what Ivarb had tried to do, they had to say that he did at least something. It was going to be torturous and humiliating no matter what story they told the queen, but if they could spin a good one it might be less humiliating than if they gave the queen the true story._

 _She felt Clarke shift in her arms, and heard the older whisper to gently, "They're coming. I know what to tell them. Just be quiet and go with the story that I tell them, alright?" Cameron, before she could think better of it, nodded and glanced over to the slope of the hill where she saw Azgeda warriors beginning to leave the buildings and go to their weapon areas. Patrols. They were going to come this way first before anything else. And inevitably they would see Ivarb's body. Cameron clenched hard onto Clarke. "Please don't let them hurt me." She whimpered, face feeling only slightly warm from her flush, only slightly, thanks to the cold. She felt ashamed already. She had been trained for six months now. It wasn't long compared to any of the born Azgeda troops, but she felt like she was completely helpless. Like a baby. It was pathetic. Even just a little training should have made her stronger in spirit than this. But after what Ivarb had tried to do…_

" _We'll be alright, Cam." Clarke promised the other girl, parting finally, "We'll be alright." Cameron met Clarke's eyes, the blonde holding hard determination in her blue orbs, "Just agree with the story I give. That's all." Cameron nodded weakly as she looked towards the end of the slope, seeing the Azgeda soldiers coming towards them._

 **Present Day:**

 **Skaikru Territory: Arkadia**

The incredulous, furious and frightened looks he had received from everyone, from Octavia, to Kane to Abby had been irritating, to say the least. Wells was averting his attention from all of his people regularly since the Grounders had waltzed into their camp. An impatient growl left Octavia's lips as she glared at the group of warriors across the council table, opposite side of Octavia and her people, "So, what proof do you have that Clarke is with the Azgeda?" "We have no proof," The Commander answered, holding her hand up when one of her warriors started to growl at Octavia for her impatience and curtness, "We only know what we have heard. Klark was seen wandering around the edge of Floukru territory when Azgeda bounty hunters grabbed her, hit her so hard she was unconscious and threw her onto their boat." Leksa heard a growl next to her and didn't turn to Onya, knowing the older warrior's anger over what the Azgeda dared to do to their Klark was making the warrior want to lash out.

She could see out of the corner of her eye, Onya clenching her fingers, itching to reach for her dagger and stab it into something. She wasn't sure she was that far away from reacting the same way either.

Abi quailed, "If that was seven months ago, what has happened to her? Why are you only telling us this _now?!"_ Oktevia decided to answer for both the Commander and Onya, "Why do you think, Abby? Because the great _Heda,"_ Oktevia sneered the title out, glaring at the stoic Commander, "Doesn't give a damn about Clarke! It's the same reason why she left Clarke to die. She hoped Clarke would die there. She doesn't care what happens to any of us." Onya lost control of her anger, hand grabbing the hilt of her dagger, beginning to unsheathe the blade when Leksa slapped her hand onto Onya's wrist, stopping her, her other hand smashing down in a fist onto the wooden table before her, making everyone gasp. Belomi reached for his gun, but Kane stopped him.

"We don't have time for this!" Leksa snapped, green eyes hard, uncaring for the aghast looks on all of the Skaikru's faces. "We didn't know about Klark being taken until almost seven months afterwards. Nearly a month ago. The queen was careful in making sure that information did not reach us. I promise you, she will pay for what she has done to Klark. She had committed a great offense against me and against the Coalition. But for this to be recognized, for her to be held responsible for what she has done, I need all of you to come with me."

That made everyone in their circle hush and quiet. Oktevia looked at Linkin and Abi looked lost. Wels took a moment to think before getting closer to the table, looking at the Commander evenly. "I'll go." He volunteered, voice loud, making his companions stiffen and stare at him. "I'll go with you to the Azgeda territory. Just promise me that you won't leave Clarke again." He stared with hard meaning at the Commander, trying to look as demanding as he could, even though he was sure he wasn't pulling it off at all. Even his manipulative bastard of a father hadn't had a very intimidating stare. Wells was sure he had inherited that lacking trait.

Still, the Commander, after several seconds of keeping her eyes locked with the young man, nodded. "Wels," She said, aware that this young man, Wels Jaha, who had let her and the rest of her soldiers into the camp in the first place, had also been Klark's childhood friend and had been there for her throughout her time on Earth, "You have my word that I will not abandon her."

"Yeah, this time." Belomi snorted, making Kane hiss, "quiet" at him. Leksa felt Onya tense again, but kept her hand on the older woman. They would only go around in circles if they kept on like this. At least Wels seemed to be trying to get them to move on. "Do you want to help Klark or not?" Leksa asked in a strict voice, "If we keep wasting time like this, we'll never get to the Ice Queen's lair. You want to help Klark? So do we. And that will only happen if we leave now. The Az kwin wants to take Klark's power. Or use her against me. And she'll do it using torture. If she hasn't already." Leksa almost growled the words out, thinking about Klark in the cells of the Azgeda, tortured as Kostia had been. She could almost make out from the corner of her eye, how Onya's muscles were tensing. Clearly the image that Leksa was providing her mentor was not one Onya was pleased by either.

Belomi said coldly, "Of course you're worried that Clarke will be tortured, because you're worried it will effect you. That's the only reason why you're going."

"Oh my god, shut up!" Wells groaned, glaring at the older man. "Aren't the two of them going after Clarke reason enough to think that they might care about her? Even if it's only a little? I don't know about you, Blake, but I'm going to go with them to the Ice Nation to find Clarke. You stay here and sulk all you want. That's pretty much what you're good at when you don't get your way."

Belomi glared at Wels and Leksa found a smile nearly cover her face. At least one of them was listening. "Wels, you're not going with them alone." Abi said. She looked at the Commander, uneasy. "I don't trust you. But if Clarke is in danger, like you said, I can't stay here. I'm going with you." The Commander nodded, mildly pleased that the woman was willing to overlook some of her misgivings about her and the rest of the Trikru for her daughter's sake. Reivon spoke up then, face as fierce as Leksa supposed the young woman could manage for one of her people, "I'm going too." She kept her eyes locked with the Commander's, "I'm not leaving Abby or Wells alone with either of you for even a second. And I'm not leaving Clarke with the Ice Nation goons, whoever they are."

Kane spoke up, looking at everyone, "We should keep some of the council here if anything goes wrong. I'll go with the Commander." He nodded his head at Leksa and her troops before Abi spoke up again, "No. Kane, if anything happens to me, or to Wells or anyone else," Abby looked at Kane, staring up into his eyes, looking like she was about to choke on her words, "If…if anything happens to Clarke, we need council members here to make sure the rest of our people are taken care of. Kane, you, Gina, Bellamy, Monroe, Sterling, and Finn have to stay here. I'll go with Wells and Raven. Lincoln, Octavia, you're both warriors. Both of you come with us. We'll get Clarke back."

Octavia snorted as Lincoln nodded next to her, "As if I was just gonna sit around while the Ice bitch has Klark? Yeah right. Of course we're coming with you. And we don't need your permission." Belomi's eyes widened and he started at that, but Oktevia glared at him as she spoke, "I wasn't asking for your permission either, Bell. I am going with them. Stay out of the way, brother. You're needed here. I'm not going to just stay here when Clarke needs help. Get over it."

Bellamy looked put out, like he was about to snap at someone, when Raven turned to him, speaking bluntly, "Give it a rest, Bell. She's right. Octavia and Lincoln are fighters. And Clarke needs our help. You and some of the others need to stay here. We'll go rescue our girl." The Commander didn't respond to the "our girl" comment, knowing that Reivon meant it in no way that the Trikru or any of their people might mean it. As far as she knew, Klark and Reivon had never known each other like _that._ "Look," Reivon continued, making sure everyone's attention was on her, "We have to go rescue Clarke. And I hate saying it but for once I agree with the Commander. The longer we stay here with our thumbs up our asses, the longer the Ice Queen has Clarke. And if she's still…"

Abi barely kept her whimper at bay, and Leksa couldn't help her pity for the woman. She couldn't bear to think it, and she knew that neither could Onya, but they both and the Skaikru now likely knew that it was possible that Klark was already dead. The Ice Queen may have already murdered Wanheda to take her power. But whenever her tortured mind traveled to that possibility, Leksa would have to use every fiber of her being to build up walls against it. She couldn't, she just couldn't think of that as a possibility and Onya had made it clear that neither could she. They couldn't believe that. They wouldn't lose Klark like she had lost Kostia.

Wels and Oktevia seemed to be thinking the same way. "Don't say that." Wels said, eyes wide. "She's still alive! We'll find her." Oktevia was glaring at Leksa and growled, "Nothing had better happen to Klark." "I can't promise anything." Leksa announced loudly before any of her armed companions could reprimand Oktevia for speaking to their Heda like that, "But I can promise that we'll do everything we can to retrieve Klark from the Azgeda."

Oktevia eyed the Commander, but nodded. Belomi was seething and growling under his breath, "Right, like you did everything before?" The Commander wanted to be angry, and she might have been, had he not have a good point. She _was_ one of the reasons why Klark left, wasn't she? She stood by her decision for it was what was best for her people, but she knew that if she had stayed by Klark's side, Klark might not have needed to pull the lever, killing everyone in the Mountain. And if she hadn't, she wouldn't have left her people. And of course, her leaving had led her into the Ice Queen's hands.

Leksa risked looking back slowly at Onya and wondered if her mentor blamed her. She knew that Onya did not agree with her decision at Mount Weather. She believed it to be weak and believed it was giving the Mountain Men the ability to walk above ground. Though Onya didn't dare say it, she had all but uttered that she believed that her Heda had committed _treason_ against her people, even if it had been unintentionally, by allowing the Mountain Men to have 47 prisoners, plus the rest of the Skaikru with bone marrow. Onya had come close, so close to calling her Heda a traitor. She hadn't said it, and there had been no one else in the room to hear Onya nearly say such a thing, but she had nearly said it. And Leksa had understood Onya's implications all too well.

She had given her mentor a warning, _"Careful of your next words, Onya. I did what I had to do for my people."_

Onya had not been deterred. _"And is giving the enemy an ability to be safe above ground so that they can attack our villages freely and unencumbered by the toxic air what's best for our people? I'll ask this as well, Heda, how is what you did best for Klark? Ask her if she'll forgive you if we ever will see her again."_

 _The silence that had filled the room was nearly unbearable after that. Leksa had just stood and stared, daring Onya to go on. But Onya had stared back at her once Seken, the accusations strong in her dark eyes._

Onya had been one of the few Trikru besides Linkin and Naikou to go back to the Mountain to see what had happened. It was possible Klark didn't know, as Onya had gone a different route from Linkin. Linkin had gone with the remaining Skaikru, and Naikou and Onya had come back, telling her what had happened and that Klark had disappeared. Onya had delivered the latter part of that news to Leksa herself, fire in her dark orbs as she looked at the woman she was supposed to respect unquestioningly.

The Commander could still remember her breath hitching and her heart stopping when she had heard Onya say that. She hadn't quite believed that Onya would say that, but at the same time, she knew her mentor wasn't entirely wrong. There were whispers around her about how she had made a foolish decision when the Mountain Men were weak to the very air. And that she had been weak and cowardly, turning her back on the Mountain Men.

And Klark? Leksa knew that she may never be forgiven by the woman she and Onya loved, but she knew that they had to try and save her, even if she wanted nothing to do with them ever again. Leksa's heart clenched at the thought. But she had to try.

Leksa heard the clumsy, loud footsteps approaching, being announced through snapping twigs and crunching, dead leaves. She looked in the direction of the noise and saw more Skaikru she knew were of the "100" that Klark had come down with. Four of them. She knew that Onya had gotten time to know them. She looked at Onya in question and her once mentor answered, "The dark-skinned one is Nathan Miller. The other boy without the beard is Monti. The one with the braids is Munroh. The one with the lighter hair is Harper." The Commander nodded and turned back to the scene as the new four approached.

"What's happening?" Munroh asked, looking at Belomi and Wels for answers. Oktevia looked to the other young woman. "It's Clarke." She started. "The Azgeda, the Ice Nation has her. The queen is a ruthless monster that will kill Clarke to get her strength or torture her to get her to do what she wants. We're sending a rescue party for her." Munroh nodded, her muscles tensing in a way that looked like she was getting ready to fight. "Right. I'm coming with you." "No you're not," Belomi snapped, glaring over at her. "We need people in the council here. And I'm not risking the four of you and Sterling. Or Gina. That's why you're all staying here." With a look from Reivon and glare from Oktevia, Belomi growled out, "And why I'm staying here too." Monti, who Leksa noted had not changed in his countenance at all since Belomi had announced the information to them, stepped forward, dark eyes traveling to the Commander.

"You're the Commander, right?" He asked, voice quiet, and though his expression was calm, Leksa knew that mask anywhere. The mask this boy was wearing was no different than the one that she wore whenever she had to face the Ice Queen at their meetings. The boy's eyes told her everything. Calm or not, there was disgust and rage inside him. It was the face that was trying to hide what the boy was really feeling, which could very well be the need to shoot her or one of her men.

"That, she is." Onya said calmly, "And you will show her respect, Monti kom Skaikru." Monti spoke coldly, shrugging. "Whatever." Monti's lips tightened, making his rage more recognizable to everyone else. "You're the reason Klark had to kill my friend, Jasper so you savages wouldn't torture him to death." Before anyone could say anything else, Monti glared at Onya. "You remember Jasper, Onya? You let them tie him to a tree. Your people put a spear into him. Your people strung him up on a tree and left him to die above a bunch of spikes. Your people terrified him till he attacked a village out of fear. And you blame _us?"_ Monti's words came out harshly and his eyes were now nearly completely wet with tears. Oktevia was trying to get him to be quiet, but the boy just stared hard at the group of Trikru and other tribes members standing there, the Yujleda and others growing irritated by this show of disrespect.

From seemingly out of nowhere, Fin appeared and grabbed his friend, pulling him forcefully backwards into the camp, sending a charming grin to Leksa and Onya. "Commander, Anya! Sorry for this disgraceful show you just saw. That was horrifying, I'll admit. I think the poor guy's been drinking. And he's grieving. So sorry about him. Come on, Monty." Fin dragged Monty back by his arms, not letting the younger go for even a second. The startled Belomi who had been watching, turned back to the others. "Where the hell did he just come from?" Linkin nodded to the thin line of the fence that if not looked at the right way, had a divider that was wide enough to obscure someone's vision of that particular part of the fence. "I heard him a few feet back. He was listening in to make sure that we didn't need any help." He looked apologetically at the Commander, hoping she understood.

The Commander just stared. She hated to admit it, but she did understand. The Skaikru had no reason to trust them.

Next to Leksa, Onya frowned. Fin. She didn't recall him ever being as secretive as she had heard him being as of late. It wasn't just now when he had been so careful that she had only heard his footsteps when everyone had quieted down. She had heard, through whispers of the Skaikru's behavior for the past seven months, how Fin and the other "delinquents" had been acting. Much more secretive and more cautious of any "Grounder" they knew besides Linkin and Oktevia, though there was argument about whether or not Oktevia was a Grounder. Indra insisted Oktevia was, as did Linkin.

That made Onya think about Klark, whether she willed it or not. Klark…Onya was certain had they not abandoned Klark's people at the mountain, Klark would have unioned with them. Onya had been intending to give her vows to Klark, and she had meant every one of them. She had no doubt in her mind that Leksa would have meant them as well. Leksa was not weak. But she _had_ made a stupid, weak mistake. Because of Leksa's decision, the Mountain Men had nearly gained the ability walk above ground without any danger to them. They would have been free to attack villages with their advanced weapons and the poisonous air wouldn't stop them. It was this decision that had earned Leksa the whispers of the council members in Polis that she had betrayed their people. And even if Leksa hadn't betrayed the Trikru, hadn't Leksa still betrayed _their_ people. Klark was their people. Which meant that Klark's people were their people automatically. By leaving the Skaikru to die, Leksa had betrayed her people.

Onya would normally be the last person to even think that Leksa had committed treason of any manner as Heda, let alone say it, but when Leksa had left their to be unioned's people to die, Onya, for once in ever knowing the young woman who she had taught and practically raised after the young girl had been taken from her mother, father and brother all those years ago, Onya had felt anger, true anger towards her Commander. Vengeful anger even. Even when trying to understand Heda's reasons for doing it, she found it flawed and dangerous.

How was giving the Mountain Men bone marrow saving the Trikru? Or the Sankru? Or the Azgeda even? Or any of their people. Leksa had only helped the enemy that had been plaguing their people for years and years. So Onya would defend her Heda, as was her duty and would defend Leksa till the day she died. But Onya knew for once as Heda, Leksa had made a truly foolish mistake and had Klark and Belomi not pulled that lever, it could have ended with the deaths of thousands of their people.

And Leksa abandoned the people of the woman they both loved. That alone, without the consequences of what the Mountain Men would do afterwards was enough to make Onya feel the burn of anger, though she would never speak it outside of the two of them. The memory of the way Klark had looked at them when she had realized what the decision was at the mountain that Leksa had made Onya's chest feel like it was being stabbed. Nothing could have prepared her for that kind of pain. The only comparison she could offer had been the deaths of her brother and her father.

Onya's attention went back to the group of Skaikru. She had heard of how hardened the Skaikru had become. And though she usually would have approved of such developments, as this world was brutal and unforgiving. But she knew Klark would not have approved. Not at all. Not of Fin's secrecy, not of Monti's new cynicism, not of Oktevia's distrust towards all "Grounders" save for her Linkin, not for the way Reivon's eyes barely contained her hate towards them, none of it.

Miller looked like he was about to say something when Belomi grabbed him and shook his head. Kane spoke up before anyone else could say anything, "Alright. I don't like it, Abby, but I trust you. You take care, okay? And take this." Kane reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, making Onya and the other tribes people tense up. Kane handed the gun and a few black packets that Onya realized were bullets to Abi. Abi took them and nodded, embracing Kane and kissing him.

When they parted, Abby looked at the Commander and the others and put the gun and the bullets away cautiously. She turned to Belomi. "My order stands, Bellamy. You and the others stay here. Raven, Wells, Octavia, Lincoln and I will go." Raven shook her head, "You know Finn's gonna want to come too. He's not leaving Clarke in that place any more than I will, Griffin." Onya could just see the ire building in Klark's mother. She was aware that this woman had gotten Klark's beloved father killed. But she was still Klark's mother. Onya made a note that when Leksa didn't need her sides guarded, to keep a close watch on Klark's friends and especially on Klark's mother, Abi. She wouldn't do what she had done back at the Mountain. Follow Leksa blindly and nearly leaving Klark's people to die all because her Heda said so.

True to Reivon's words, Fin came running over a minute later, a packed bag over his shoulder, smiling at the group, his appearance having improved with the light shadow of a beard that was beginning to show more. "So," He said, grinning again, "Are we taking off now?" He slanted his eyes deliberately at Onya and the general could see the distrust. Perhaps it had been because of holding him and Wels hostage when Onya had forced Klark to heal Tris. Because Klark was successful, she had spared both young men. She was surprised that Wels wasn't looking at her the same way Fin was.

"Yeah, we are, right?" Wels got closer to the Commander. The Commander nodded. "As soon as everyone has what they need. Then we can begin our journey to the Ice Nation." Leksa answered Wels and the young man nodded a little and said that he was going to go get some stuff before they left. One by one, the Skaikru who were part of this rescue went off to get their supplies, as Oktevia explained that the Ice Nation was a four-week journey by boat.

As Wels began to move past Leksa and Onya, he threw both of them a strange look, dark eyes narrowed. It took a moment for Onya to process it but she saw it. As Wels moved away, she mulled over the glare that had been thrown at her and understood it for what it was. Like Fin, Wels really _didn't_ trust either of them. He told them so. And after they had left Klark and her people, hurting Klark horribly, he likely trusted them even less.

Onya understood Wels's glare. He was looking out for his people, and especially for Klark, the girl he had grown up with. Though Onya supposed after she had taken him, Fin and Klark hostage during the war and had held Wels and Fin's life over Klark's head at the time, Wels had his reasons. And he certainly had them now that Klark had been driven away after the Commander's abandonment of her people had made her do what she had to do.

 _Don't betray us again, Grounders. And don't you EVER hurt my sister again._ That was what the glare had said. What Wels had said without sneering a single word.

Wels might have been gentle, but he was as uninviting to them as the rest of the Sky People were.

As Wels and the other Sky people got ready, speaking amongst themselves, Leksa inched closer to Onya and barked an order for the guards to move back and spread out behind the fence, making sure she and Onya had room to speak together. Barvin protested, "Heda, these people-" "Do you suggest that I would be threatened by these children? By these soft Sky People?" Barvin instantly looked aghast at the question and cringed away. Suggesting that his Heda would be weak at all might earn him a few lashes if he wasn't careful.

When she was certain that no one was within earshot, Leksa turned back to Onya. "There has been a fair point raised," Leksa's voice was calm for what she was about to say, "The reports of Klark being in Azgeda only go back to a month ago. Last time she was spotted and the Ice Queen couldn't keep any bandits quiet, Klark was reported overseeing a village. And she was said to be surrounded by Azgeda soldiers. What if she's been-" Onya hissed, breath coming out painfully. They couldn't think it. They couldn't. There were two possibilities that neither of them to fathom. One was that Klark was dead. That was the expected possibility that neither of them would tolerate being possible. Then there was the other possibility. That Klark had _chosen_ the Azgeda. She had gone to them in retaliation for Mount Weather.

Had Klark willingly joined the Azgeda? "It's not possible," Onya said, muscles tense throughout her body. "The people who saw her in Floukru territory saw two Azgeda soldiers take her away by force. They struck her and took her with them to their boats. She did not go with them of her own free will." Onya shook her head even though she knew there was a possibility that the abduction at the Floukru markets might have been for show, "She couldn't have. She couldn't have." Klark wouldn't join the Azgeda. Even if she hated the two of them, she had to know that it would be dooming her own people to join with the Azgeda. If Klark had joined the Azgeda, Queen Nia would betray their love and kill every last one of the Sky People. No matter what Klark's feelings were, she couldn't really believe that the Ice Queen would keep her people safe. She couldn't. Not after everything she had been told about the woman.

Klark couldn't possibly think that the Ice Queen could be trusted. The Heda ground her teeth together. "That's not what I'm talking about. Klark, she won't trust the Ice Queen. All the things we've heard, about her capture and about her serving the queen, Nia must be threatening her people." Leksa looked over at all of the Sky People arming themselves and saying their goodbyes, Munroh refusing to stay if one of theirs was being held captive.

"These people are defenseless so long as they are not in the Coalition." Leksa said, green eyes stirring with troubled thoughts. "I won't put Klark's people in danger again. Her people will have protection needed while we go to the Azgeda and rescue Klark." Onya cocked her head. What had Leksa been about to say? What she thought about what had happened to Klark? Feeling her once mentor's eyes on her, Leksa finally spoke her deep seeded fear, "The reports of Klark being in Azgeda, working with them, that could have been forced. The Ice Queen could be threatening the Sky People to get Klark to do what she wants. But if she's having Klark fight her battles for her, putting her in danger, Klark's safety is what I am concerned about." Onya's body went straight at that thought. Klark being in danger was a threat that had been cutting at their minds for months.

Was Klark in danger? Was Klark hurt? Where was Klark? Was Klark somewhere in tribes' lands? Was someone hiding Klark? Had Klark died? So many questions that hurt them to think. They could practically read the other's questions just by looking at each other and saw their fears reflected in each other's eyes that no one else saw. Then they had learned from one of their scouts that Wanheda had been seen in Azgeda territory. Overseeing the trading in a village on the outskirts of Nia's kingdom. Next to her were two of Nia's greatest generals, Saktar and Kavow. That had been almost half a month ago. Onya had to admit that she had thought the story false or perhaps the scout had made a mistake, but the scout was a very reliable one. One of the most reliable ones. One that knew well what Klark looked like.

Onya recalled what the scout described. A woman, nearing her nineteenth or twentieth year at least, with a head of pale gold hair. The scout, who had gotten close enough only because he had disguised himself as an Azgeda, managed to even get a good look at the woman's face. He had described it in perfect detail. It was Klark alright. Just the age was wrong. Klark was nearing her twenty-first year. But the rest was true. That information had only brought more questions that Onya feared the answer to. She knew her Heda feared the answers as well, though neither of them would ever utter those fears. Their people relied on them to be fearless, incapable of any insecurity. But even they had felt the icy fingers of dread touch them when they had heard the stories. What had happened to Klark? Why was she there? Why hadn't Klark tried to escape if she was allowed a horse?

But neither Onya nor Leksa would listen to those questions. The only way Klark would be with the Azgeda, were she not joining them of her own free will to spite both Onya and Leksa for their betrayal, was if the Azgeda was threatening the Sky People. Onya watched Leksa go to lines of her soldiers and give out harsh orders to protect the Skaikru camp while they were gone, to make sure the Azgeda did not harm any of them in her absence. She spat out the commands in Trigedasleng, but to Onya's surprise, a great deal of the Sky People lifted their heads, looking at the Commander with recognition.

It wasn't just Linkin and Oktevia that reacted. It was a great deal of the group at the gate that was getting ready. Wels, Munroh, Harper, Kane, Reivon, Belomi, Gina, Abi, they all turned their attentions to the tribe warriors, startled. Many of them appeared offended. "Hey!" Reivon yelled, looking mildly enraged, and to Onya's shock, started yelling in Trigedasleng, "What do you mean they're staying here?! Are you trying to force us to do what you want? Newsflash, we're not part of your coalition! You don't get to tell us what to do until we're part of the coalition. So screw you."

Onya would have been enraged at someone speaking to her Heda like that, had it been spoken in any way except that. Such a burst of anger, with the unexpected shock of there being fluent Trigedasleng from this Sky woman, and the additional word that Onya didn't understand, "newsflash," the Trikru woman was just left at a loss. She stared at the group of Sky People. They understood what Heda was saying. Reivon's words hadn't just startled Onya. Many of the other Trikru, Yujleda, Podakru and other tribes people looked stunned. Many of them began to appear angry before Heda told them to back away and control their anger.

Heda, who had also seemed a little startled by Reivon's outburst, turned to the group, trying to remain calm as she looked directly at Linkin and Oktevia, "You taught them Trigedasleng?" Linkin nodded. "Sha, Heda. They needed to learn the different things about this world, so I taught them as much of the language of the Trikru as I could."

Leksa nodded, focusing her attention on Reivon now, speaking in Trigedasleng, "You misunderstand, Reivon. We are not holding you against your will. We believe that the Ice Queen is using your lives to control Klark. If she disobeys it is likely that many of you will be killed as punishment. So these warriors are here for your protection. They will guard your people while we travel to the Azgeda to rescue Klark." None of the Sky people looked convinced when they heard that. Belomi snorted in Gonasleng, "Sure. I guess when you guys get back it won't be a surprise when you find us with all of our throats slashed open."

This time, Onya allowed her anger to show. "Sky dog," She growled, staring dangerously at him, teeth bared, "I warn you, don't accuse us of treachery. We are trying to protect your people."

"Because you did so well last time?" Munroh tossed at Onya in Trigedasleng, and loaded up her rifle, clicking something on it and swinging it into a leather holster, slinging it over her back, and the Sky girl began to walk out the gate and she looked at the others, "Are we going? Bellamy, make sure the others are safe while we're gone, right?" Munroh turned a distrustful gaze at all of the tribe warriors present, giving a dark glare particularly to Heda, then to Onya. "As we know, we can't really trust any of them besides Lincoln. So you watch out for whatever they do." Onya could feel the irritation at what Munroh was saying start to build, but she understood their anger. They _had_ left them to die. They had every right to be suspicious. And more importantly? They'd be _stupid_ to not take precautions to make sure that the betrayal never occurred again. Wels, Linkin and the others stepped out and Belomi scooted further into the gate, keeping a gun close, staying by Gina protectively, his accusing eyes never leaving any of the tribes people as he scanned them left and right.

Fin finally came back from the Sky bases and went to where Reivon stood. He spoke quietly with her and Reivon shook her head, making Fin alarmed and what little Onya could pick up, sounded like, "I'm not leaving you to go get yourself killed. If you and Clarke are both in danger, I'm going with you." Reivon shook her head and Onya picked up the next words, "You're needed here. While we're gone, the others need as many people that can track and hunt as they can get, Finn. Don't be stupid. Stay here. I'm ordering it." Finn looked offended for a second before his slim shoulders sagged and he nodded. "Yes, Chancellor." He mumbled. Reivon winced, but still hugged him. "Just stay here, okay? If anything happens to us, you and the others have to be responsible for everyone else."

Fin nodded. "Okay. If you find Clarke, can you tell her we all miss her and that I'm sorry?" Reivon nodded, her and Fin clasping their hands together, squeezing before Reivon turned and walked out of the gate with the others, coming to the first set of Trikru warriors who dragged over some horses by their reins. Reivon looked at the horse worriedly, for once losing her confident appearance and Linkin chuckled, "It's fine, Reivon. I'll show you how to ride it." Reivon grumbled to herself, "A freaking horse. Should I wait till it bucks me off? Dammit, Clarke, what I'll do for you." Onya smirked as each of the Sky children, Abi and Linkin got on their respective horses, Oktevia, Wels and Linkin helping Reivon with her horse as the dark-skinned woman only released her cane when Wels and Oktevia had a good hold on her arms and allowed Reivon to lean against the two of them when she at last raised her good leg to the horse's stirrup.

Eventually Reivon was seated on the horse, a pack of some kind on her back, Onya noticed as Wels handed Reivon her can before getting up on his own horse next to Reivon and Oktevia. "You've got all the explosives?" Wels teased, his once blank face trying to show some semblance of emotion. It looked strange on the cold face that he had been showing lately. Reivon grinned, reaching into her pack, pulling out what Onya assumed was a bomb. The thing was surprisingly small, grey and the size and shape of a plastic water canister that Onya had seen some Sky people use. "Yeah," Reivon grinned. "If those Azgeda goons are going to threaten Clarke, I've got something to blow them to bits."

Onya grinned. So some of the Sky People weren't so bad. Besides Klark, who had told them a great deal about the people in her camp, she had only had interaction with Wels, Fin, Munroh, Oktevia and a few others. But this only proved the Ice Queen would have a fight on her hands before she hurt Klark.

 **Author's note:**

 **So a wrap up to my feelings in case anyone had questions, why is anyone surprised by Ivarb? Didn't we already meet someone like him in the first season? You know, Bellamy Blake? The guy that actually had sex with underage girls and abused children? Oh, please, anyone that tries to defend Bellamy, here's a little daily friendly reminder. Bellamy abused children in the first season and slept with underage girls. He's an abusive hebephile. And do I really need to remind everyone that he killed 300 people in their** _ **sleep?**_ **That wasn't in warfare. He didn't** _ **have**_ **to do that. He killed them in their** _ **sleep.**_ **You know we have serial killers in the real world like that. For those that might defend Bellamy's actions or any fans that piece of shit still somehow has, let me know how those letters to Charles Manson are going, okay? He had people killed in their sleep too, you know. And oh yeah, he preyed on the insecurities of children regularly.**

 **Let's just call Bellamy Blake what he is, shall we? Bellamy Blake is a predatory, abusive hebephile. There, I said it. Oh and a mass murderer incapable of admitting when he's in the wrong and taking responsibility for his own actions and blaming them on a girl younger than him just because she left and just can't seem to grow up. Did I miss anything?**

 **Oh, and for those wondering, what about Lexa? Lexa's an idiot. No seriously, even if she was leaving the Sky People because they weren't her people, she literally gave the Mountain Men the "key" to getting up onto ground without needing suits.**

 **Lexa doomed her own people by giving the Mountain Men, people with advanced technology and bombs, yes, do I need to remind everyone of the bombs and the missiles(?), she gave those particular people bone marrow. She** _ **handed**_ **people with bone marrow to those that needed it to stay alive above ground. People who had been terrorizing the Grounders for decades. And people with advanced technology.**

 **Look, I'm all for thinking that Grounders are stupid since the Trikru make me wonder if there's a huge lack of brain cells that people have after the radiation and the bombs hit, but even they have to take the long-term effects of what Lexa did into account.**

 **If I was in their position? I would suspect treason. Giving a long time enemy(longer time enemy than the Sky People) a way of being on the ground without their suits, with advanced technology, roaming free to attack villages left and right? Um…I think any Grounder ambassador with half a brain would be raising their hand and delicately asking if the Commander was trying to get every village slaughtered.**

 **Again, do I really need to remind everyone of this? One missile the Mountain Men launched wiped out at least two hundred or so people in Ton DC. And Lexa gave these people bone marrow, the key to getting above ground…**

 **Outside of forming the Coalition, which of course was necessary for when the Mountain Men were around, has Lexa contributed….well…** _ **anything**_ **to the tribes? Sure, she introduced the "blood must not always have blood" policy, but that was only because of Clarke.**

 **Seriously, is Lexa actually** _ **trying**_ **to get her people killed? Deliberately. By the end of the Mountain Men getting bone marrow, I think just about any Grounder would suspect treason from their commander. The only reason they haven't is because** _ **Clarke**_ **chose to kill them all and Bellamy just went with it because apparently his sister was the only one that mattered.**

 **So in basic terms, Lexa's a shortsighted moron who is actually quite weak when you think about it since she can't do anything without the pressure of her ambassadors and allies not approving of her decisions, and Bellamy is a sociopathic, predatory abuser and mass murderer. Oh and I feel like we're forgetting something very important, he has a very creepy smile. Looks around. Did I miss anything?**

 **I promise you, you might not know an Ivarb, but you've certainly met a Bellamy sometime in your life. He's the one you don't trust around your best female friend. He's the one that's getting younger boys involved in violence. He's the one that you probably have to call the police on when you hear commotion across the street and realize he's abusing his girlfriend or wife again. He's the one that probably will put something in your or a friend's drink. He's the one that tells men or boys younger than him that they'll be liked more in a group if they do something for him, possibly something illegal and I promise you, something immoral. I promise you, you've met a Bellamy before. He's symbolic of all male violence.**

 **That's the reason why as far as I'm concerned, I'd trust a Bellamy fan or a Bellarke or Blaven fan as far as I could throw them. You're basically empathizing with an abusive sociopath. Oh and for anyone that thinks I excuse Raven and Finn's relationship, think again, given that if you look at the wiki information on the two of them, Raven is seven years older than Finn. No, seriously. Look it up. On the wiki page, Raven's age is listed as being 25, Finn is 18. So…...when did their relationship start? There's a serious question about consent when it comes to those two. Poor Finn. No wonder he's a sex addict.**

 **I love Raven, don't get me wrong, I adore her, but I have some big questions about what consent Finn might have had with her if any. Remember, this can all be blamed on one person. And he keeps giving us promises and we should really just ignore it. Remember, Rothenberg is a little pig leading sheep around to a butcher's shop and leaving the sheep to get grinded up. That's basically what he is. And for some reason, he has a fetish for characters that commit underage sex. Why does** _ **anyone**_ **listen to anything he says anymore?**


	5. Witnesses to another Brutality

**Author's note: So deep breath and say to self, I solemnly swear I will not rant for this chapter. Breathe out. Just making sure my temper doesn't flare up by keeping the human sack of turds that is Bellamy Blake out of this fic as of the end of last chapter. Hopefully I won't have reason to bring him out in the fic again.**

 **Anonymous: Thank you. I actually didn't know that. Okay, so I take back what I said about Raven. I was unaware that Raven's age was labeled as 25 until after the six years had passed by. Even though I literally have come to disregard everything in the series since nothing makes sense at all in that series, and Rothenberg is bullshit, thank you for this information. Okay, so thankfully Raven is** _ **not**_ **a sexual predator. Literally everything else in the last two seasons is complete bullshit. I don't even know what was happening and don't care.**

 **(Hugs Raven) Thank goodness, my pure cinnamon roll remains innocent! I guess that means Finn remains just a lying whore then. Bellboy on the other hand remains in the trash where he belongs. (Sets trash on fire. Throws multiple Holy Hand grenades at the trash and watches, grinning as it blows up)**

 **A little warning here, trigger warnings for the mentions of the rape attempt from last chapter, more victim blaming, and a brutal whipping scene. Anyone with these triggers either avoid this chapter or brace yourself.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 5: Witnesses to another Brutality**

 **Azgeda Territory: Norway**

The different weapons, after being wiped of the blood from the occasional small nicks here and there on the trainees were being put back into their leather sheathes. Curved sythes and hooks went back into their leather compartments and short swords, daggers, knives and spears were tucked away. In the farther fight dens, where round targets, covered with cloths, designed to have targets on them. Feet away from those targets were archers, holding their bows up, pulling their arrows back. Clarke watched the archers as she, Beryl and Farron gathered up their own weapons. Glenn had already proven that he was better at firing arrows that a great deal of the soldiers appointed as archers. The months he had spent training wouldn't have been effective it were anyone else, but Glenn had a true talent for archery.

Clarke turned to Beryl and the dark-haired girl smiled at her. On Beryl's beautiful face, were three brands. The brands of a war hero. One on her forehead. Another was on the right cheek, the last was on the left cheek. The mark on the right cheek was for courage and the one on her left for strength. The one on her forehead almost all Azgeda, save for the youngest, smallest children had them. It was the mark that branded one a true Azgeda. It was only given to a warrior once they had killed someone. Only killing someone would mark the warrior a true Azgeda. Clarke gave Beryl a reassuring smile as the two of them and Farron made off to the stables to look after the horses. The Ice Queen had seemed stunned that Clarke would ask to help her Seconds with things so menial and low as looking after horses or sharpening weapons and the like, but Clarke had made it clear, she would take part in the work with her Seconds. That the Seconds would feel more motivated if they saw their mentor work with them. Clarke glanced at Beryl's face and the younger somehow still was smiling at her happily after _everything._ She would never forget how Beryl, Cameron, Glenn, Parker and Christopher got those marks. What had happened to them, what they had been forced to do would haunt her for the rest of her life.

 **Four Months ago**

 _Confronting the Queen, both young women bowing before the monarch, Clarke tilted her head up, eyes on the Queen and Ontari. Lain out before both rulers, was Ivarb's body. Out in the snow, Tuldel's body was being carted off, frozen enough for it to be cooked and used as meat. It hurt to know that that sweet horse would be used to fill the bellies of warriors that lived here, some of the people that ate Tuldel might even be Cameron's fellow twenty-six prisoners, but there was a bigger matter here. Ivarb's body was on the top step before the queen and Ontari's thrones, at their feet. The queen rose, standing over the corpse, looking to it, then to the kneeling Cameron and Clarke._

 _Ontari was peering over the edge of the step, looking down at Clarke, noting the bloodstains on the blade of the knife she had given to the girl. A smirk tugged at Ontari's lips before she could help it. Her future wife had used the gift she had given to her to dispatch Ivarb. This pleased her._

" _And explain slowly please why Ivarb was killed." The Queen demanded, her icy grey eyes remaining on the young women, her streaked grey and red hair in a ponytail. Clarke slowly lifted her head, seeing Cameron out of the corner of her eye shaking, fear covering her pale face. She couldn't let Cameron deal with this. She was Wanheda. The eventual wife of Ontari, the queen's heir. There would be a much higher price for trying to do to her what Ivarb had tried to do to Cameron._

" _Your majesty," Clarke said, quickly, making her decision. Screw the consequences. Wasn't she already worthy of death anyway? "I had to kill Ivarb. He would have killed me if I didn't." Clarke heard a hundred gasps around her, outraged gasps. But none of those sounds made Clarke stiffen like the gasp next to her did. She glanced to the left at Cameron who was now staring at her, shocked. "Cameron can prove the story," Clarke continued, her face giving nothing away as she watched the stunned queen and the now enraged Ontari, "She witnessed it."_

 _The queen turned her attention to Cameron. "Is this true, Kamirun?" The queen asked, staring the young girl down. "Did Ivarb do what Klark claimed that he did?" Cameron's body tensed and ached almost immediately. They were doing this? Lying to the queen? She knew that Clarke had to be doing this because she thought she was protecting her. If Clarke, who clearly had more status in the Azgeda than any of the twenty-six had in fact been the one that Ivarb had attacked and so Clarke had merely been protecting herself, then there was much less likely a consequence for her actions. If Cameron claimed that she was a mere witness, then it was likely her role in the events wouldn't be weighed on with as much anger._

 _But lying to the queen? Wasn't that a great offence? Even on the Ark, without the high titles of "queens" or "kings" lying to a figure of authority was a crime. And all crimes were punishable by death. And as Clarke had pointed out two months ago and had reminded Cameron and the others multiple times, execution on the Ark was quick. Down here it really wasn't quick at all. She had seen what had happened to some bandits and thieves. It wasn't a fate she would wish on anyone. Not even Pike. Not even Jaha. Not even Kane or Abby Griffin. Well, the latter of those three was one thing. She was Clarke's mother._

 _She wanted to believe that her life was too valuable as a means of making sure Clarke obeyed. But if she lied to the queen, she could be whipped for hours, if not worse. But if it was found that Clarke had killed Ivarb over her, what would happen? Cameron weighed the consequences mentally. "Wanheda" killing someone so as to protect someone she was training or lying to the queen? But if she told the truth now, Clarke could get into trouble._

 _She didn't dare look up at the queen till she heard Nia's steel voice snarling, "Look at me, girl! I will not tolerate cowards!" Cameron cringed and slowly looked up at the woman, frightened brown eyes meeting Nia's hard, grey ones. "Is what Wanheda claims true, Kamirun?" The queen repeated, "Did Ivarb truly try to kill her? I find that story very strange, as the knife mark was in Ivarb's back. Ivarb would never turn his back on those that he is trying to kill." Cameron almost felt Clarke tense. They were being caught in a lie and they both knew it. Cameron clenched her teeth together. She didn't want to do this. She felt paralyzed at what she was about to say, feeling all of the eyes fixed on her. She didn't want to tell everyone what Ivarb had tried to do to her, but Clarke had been protecting her the whole time she had been down on Earth. She couldn't let the queen punish her. Even if Clarke was safer here than she was, how could she do that to Clarke when Clarke had only protected her?_

 _Cameron felt the words rush out and she felt her throat tighten. "Ivarb tried to rape me." Cameron could feel her breath becoming shorter and shorter as the confession spilled out, "He grabbed me and pulled my pants down. He was going to rape me." Cameron felt like she might pass out at any moment when she heard the series of gasps around her. Nia remained unfazed, just watchful. Cameron gulped out, "Clarke saved me. He would have raped me if she hadn't stabbed him. I meant nothing to him. And he killed his horse before that." Cameron wasn't sure why she thought that last detail mattered at all to the queen, but every time she thought about that poor animal, she felt the incredible need to avenge it. Not to mention the overwhelming need to give the queen every single detail there was in hopes of appeasing her._

 _The queen lifted her head after several seconds, despite all the gasping and gossiping around her and the two that kneeled before her. She held up her right, gloved hand, beckoning all to be silent. The quiet that followed made dread seep into Cameron's bones. She didn't dare look at anyone now. Her head was lowered, eyes glued to the silver and white floor and the white tassels of the carpet up against the round first step before her. She didn't look at anyone. Not even at the queen. Not even at Clarke who she knew was watching her._

 _She heard the queen's voice speak calmly and coldly, "Klark, speak true. Is that what happened? Is Kamirun telling the truth?" Cameron tried not to whimper. Her curled up hands clenched against the carpet's fuzz. She hadn't wanted to put Clarke on the spot. She didn't want Clarke to be at risk. "Well?" The queen demanded, her voice now somehow sounding icier than it originally had. "Klark, the truth. Did Ivarb try to kill you and you had to kill him, or did he try to rape Kamirun and you had to kill him? Which is it?"_

 _Seconds flew by and Cameron could just feel her heart give out. She had hoped that she would save them both the pain by telling them the truth but now she could just feel the accusing eyes on her. She knew how it was. A man tried to rape a woman or succeeded and it was always the woman's fault, always. Everyone always blamed the woman. It was never the man's fault. She felt Clarke's eyes on her and then she didn't. This was followed by Clarke's small sigh and loud announcement to the whole court, "The second one is true. Ivarb did try to rape Cameron. She was on patrol and encountered him. I saw what I saw. Ivarb had his hand around Cameron's throat. He had pulled Cameron's pants down when I found them. His other hand was taking off his belt. I decided for myself what a man like that deserved."_

 _Cameron could feel the hot, tight fear building. With each gasp at Clarke's confession, Cameron could feel her ability to stay up in her crouched position become more challenged and was sure she'd fall over. She was somehow not passing out. She wasn't sure how, but she hadn't yet. She could feel herself becoming lightheaded. She just braced herself. She knew what was coming. They'd blame her. She then heard the queen speak crisply, a snicker in her voice, "Well done, Wanheda. I see you're as vicious as ever. However, for your lie to your queen, you must pay." Cameron almost gasped at the things she had just heard. The queen wasn't angry that Clarke had killed Ivarb? Her nerves weren't calm though. The queen was making it pretty clear that they had to pay for the lie. What were they going to be made to do? All of the things that the Azgeda had them do to earn respect of any kind or to even just stay alive was patrol duty, hunting, cleaning and animal keeping and the like. What else did she want?_

 _The queen's voice had a lilt in it as if she was considering something, and Cameron peeked up at the queen for once, not believing the little courage she was able to mount and saw the queen tilting her head in consideration. "Hmm," The queen teased, grinning, "Kamirun, she has not seen battle yet, has she? Not true battle, correct?" Cameron almost quailed in fear, but bit her lip to stop herself. She could feel Clarke tense up again. "No." Clarke forced out. "She hasn't. I was the one that came up with the lie though. Cameron was the one that told the truth." Cameron saw the queen turn her gaze on her, eyes boring into her own._

" _Kamirun," The queen demanded, "You had nothing to do with the story of Ivarb trying to kill her? Klark created it on her own?"_

 _Cameron winced, wanting to deny it. But it was the truth. Clarke had sprung it on her without her realizing. She had invented it from out of nowhere. "Yes," Before Cameron answered, Clarke did, "I came up with the story. Not her." "I was asking Kamirun, Wanheda." The queen answered, without looking at Clarke. "Kamirun, answer the question. Did Klark come up with this story on her own?" Cameron felt like she was on fire. She felt sick. She didn't want to rat Clarke out. But before she could stop herself, the fear almost choked her and Cameron nodded her answer to the queen. She heard a sigh in front of her. "I see." The queen answered. Cameron kept her eyes glued on the floor again, not daring to look up. She cringed again when she heard footsteps begin to move down the stairs. She couldn't bear to look at Clarke. She couldn't bear to see the look of betrayal on Clarke's face. She had betrayed the older. She had betrayed someone who had done nothing but protect her._

 _The feet of the queen, covered in grey, furry boots reached Cameron, being the only thing she could look at now. It would have been a comical sight, had it been on anyone else. Not to mention if it had been in any other situation besides this one. She watched, heart leaping up into her throat, choking her as the queen kneeled down to Cameron's level, leaning in and whispering in Cameron's ear, a wicked smile on her face, "So this is how you repay the woman who has risked everything to protect you and your companions?" Cameron's eyes became huge and the queen chuckled, lifting herself up, standing fully. Cameron felt sick. The queen knew what she was. Cameron's eyes felt hot again. Her eyes squeezed shut in shame._

" _Your majesty-" Clarke started, but the queen cut her off. "And you, Wanheda, you dare lie? Well, you're lucky I would never risk you. Kamirun, however, will be punished for your choice." Cameron's breath hitched at the promise of punishment. She tried not to cry. She was going to be whipped. She was going to be cut. She was going to be beaten. Something horrible was going to happen to her for this._

" _Your majesty, please!" Clarke's voice vaulted from her throat loudly, "I was the one that came up with the lie. Cameron wasn't. It was me, not her. I'll take her punishment. Whatever you want to do to her, I'll take it." Cameron gawked, snapping her head to the right, staring past the queen's legs at Clarke who was only looking fiercely up at the queen, not giving anything away. Cameron clearly was not the only one that was shocked by Clarke's decision. Cameron heard a chorus of gasps around them. Some Azgeda residents even cried out in their astonishment._

 _If the queen was surprised at all, she didn't voice it at all. The only response she gave was an answer covered in mockery towards Clarke, "Truly, Wanheda, you are risking punishment for this girl who will turn on you first chance she gets? I do not understand. You would still protect her, despite her treachery to you? You would take her lashings?" Cameron tried not to shudder. Lashings. That was it. She was to be lashed for this._

" _And why would she be lashed?" Clarke asked, not looking at anyone but the queen. "I was the one that came up with the lie. She told you the truth. Should a soldier remain loyal to a queen when all the soldier has been is truthful and yet the queen rewards the soldier with lashings?" Cameron's lower jaw dropped. She couldn't believe what Clarke had just said. Again, Cameron wasn't the only person shocked. Several gasps trailed into the room. Cameron wanted to look up. She wanted to see the look on the queen's face. She wanted to see just how the queen was reacting. Cameron naturally was really hoping that the queen wasn't angry._

 _She got her answer one second later. "Wanheda," The queen chuckled, "You are a great warrior. You face me fearlessly, as you should. It's almost a shame that I will have to whip you. But you will face thirty lashes. Ten for your lie, and twenty for your defiance. And after that, we will have your wounds looked at. Then we will begin further training. It is time your apprentices learn to fight in battle. If Kamirun is so easily subdued by one man, then your whole group of Sekens must be trained in the ways of war. You have not displeased me by killing Ivarb, Wanheda. You have merely removed vermin that would be a danger to my soldiers. I ordered him not to touch any of your Sekens. He has disobeyed me. You are not being punished for wiping out a traitor. You are being punished for your lie. Go with Saktar and Mathias to the posts in an hour. You will face your lashes. For now, you may prepare."_

 _If Clarke was in any way afraid, she certainly did not portray it at all. She bowed her head respectfully and the queen turned and walked back to the steps. Cameron was too busy staring at Clarke in disbelief to really pay attention as the queen spat at some random guard, "Now, take the traitor's corpse out of here. Let it rot. It isn't worth burning." Movement rung next to the steps and Ivarb's body was dragged off. Cameron's mouth was still dropped as she stared at Clarke who was lifting her head and beginning to get to her feet. Why? Why would Clarke do this for her?_

" _Clarke," Cameron started weakly, "I-" "Don't," Clarke interrupted, not looking at Cameron, eyes aimed up at the podium where the queen was not and a confused Cameron turned to look in that direction almost jumping out of her skin when she saw how Ontari was looking at her. Holy crap. Ontari looked like she was barely keeping herself in her throne. Her right hand was dangerously close to her long, jagged knife at her left hip with a gleaming, silver pommel. Her dark eyes burned, enraged at Cameron. Cameron's blood was chilled._

 _The queen called out, "Wanheda's punishment will be overseen in one candle mark. Leave us." After a moment's hesitation, Cameron, Clarke and the queen heard thunders of hundreds of feet dispersing from the area. Clarke turned, looking right at Cameron with eyes that held no accusation and she nodded towards the door of the court, Cameron almost robotically following the other woman to the door, leaving the foreboding room, trying to ignore the burning daggers at her back, thrown at her from Ontari's gaze._

 _What had she done by telling the queen the truth?_

 _ **(Page Break)**_

 _ **An Hour Later**_

 _An hour later. That was what "candle marks" meant. And it had only been one. How did people only get a goddamn hour to prepare for something like this? Cameron kept watching Clarke, as if expecting the older girl to fall to pieces. If she was anxious at all, Clarke was seriously hiding it well. "Clarke-" Cameron began, "Don't," Clarke shook her head, eyes ahead at the Azgeda that were circling around the courts, patrolling the soon-to-be watchers of the whipping. "You risked yourself. I told you to never risk yourselves." Clarke's face only held cool anger and Cameron wondered who the older was angry or angrier at right now. Herself or her. Or both. Or maybe just the Ice Queen._

 _Cameron glanced again at the eventual onlookers of Clarke's whippings. How could anyone watch something like this? How was it deemed fitting? Not just someone getting whipped, getting their skin sliced open, but to be watched while doing it? People seeing you in that way…who thought that that was right? Who came up with public punishments anyway? Wasn't punishment harsh enough without loads of people leering at you while it happened?_

 _Cameron said, shaking her head, "This isn't right." "No, it's not." Clarke supplied, still not showing any real emotion that Cameron could understand, "But it's the way life is here on the ground." She shrugged. "The Trikru are worse. They have people tied to a tree and don't even bother to check if you actually did the crime they accused you of and take turns cutting you despite your screaming. They bleed you to death."_

 _Cameron shivered. Clarke had that look in her eye as she often did when she was thinking about something that enraged her. Cameron swallowed, remembering what Clarke had told her about the 100 and their interactions with the Trikru. "The Trikru did that to someone you knew?" Clarke shook her head. "They tried to. Twice. They tried to do it to a friend, Jasper. He actually did the crimes they accused him of. But I…" Clarke cringed as she spoke, "I had to make sure that didn't happen to him. But another friend, Raven? She didn't do anything. She was framed. By a Trikru. And she was almost cut to death. She was four cuts in when I realized how she had been framed."_

 _Cameron shuddered. The Trikru sounded terrible. Clarke had mentioned being in a relationship with two of them, which she had found really weird. The Ice Queen had planned to have Clarke marry her heir, Ontari, but that couldn't be helped of course. The Ice Queen was dangerous and ordered it. Clarke didn't have a choice here. But it seemed bizarre that Clarke would ever willingly be with two people that had done what she claimed that they eventually would do. Anya. Lexa. That had been the names of the two women that Clarke had been involved with before they betrayed her. Clarke said that the two of them abandoned her and the 100 and some other Sky People at a mountain where an enemy had the rest of the 100 and the other people that had come down from the Ark._

 _Cameron didn't know what the Mountain Men were, apart from what she had heard from the Azgeda and Clarke. People who couldn't survive above ground and needed the blood of "Grounders" to heal and tried to take Clarke and the other 100's bone marrow. And apparently Lexa, the Commander of the Coalition, had abandoned Clarke and her people at the mountain, forcing Clarke to pull a lever, to save their friends. That was why Clarke was known as "Wanheda," the Commander of Death. She had rid all the Grounders of their long time enemy, "The Mountain Men."_

 _That was why the Ice Queen wanted Clarke under her control so much. Cameron had heard questions fly around the other Azgeda troops. A popular question was, "why not just kill Wanheda?" Cameron always got scared when she heard that. But the answer had usually been summed up the same way by the smarter members of the army. Why kill someone and immediately go to war when you knew that this time, the Commander really will go to war, because the queen will have started the war this time? The Ice Queen would have the strength needed to charge if she killed Wanheda and the Commander would not hold back, because it would be war._

 _Why kill Wanheda and risk war and getting your best armies killed, when you could just control Wanheda and make her work for you?_

 _And she and the rest of the twenty-six were the means of making sure Clarke listened to the Ice Queen. Cameron hated to say it, but that was pretty brilliant. Why kill a weapon when you could have said weapon work for you?_

 _The tall, thick, wooden post had been placed in the center of the stone room, surrounded by shallow ravines stuffed with burning coals to keep everyone warm. There were cuffs around the pole, meant to be placed on the judged person's wrists as they were bent over and their backs whipped. Clarke showed no signs of being afraid. She hid it well, she hid it really well. Cameron remembered what Beryl had said when they had been forced to watch that guy be hanged from his bones, getting his bones systematically ripped out of his body. She had seen how in pain Clarke had been and had only been able to maintain her appearance because she didn't want the twenty-six to suffer and get into trouble._

 _Everything Clarke was doing was for them. And Cameron understood that Clarke would never hold it over them. Beryl had to know that too. She had seen how attentive Beryl had been to Clarke for the past weeks. Trying to see if she could help with anything. Being much more at attention when being trained in a fight. Checking more and more when Clarke was training to see if she needed help. Helping with the other kids. For a time, Cameron was almost reminded of a child wanting to see if she could help her mom out in any way. She knew Beryl had some serious mom issues. Casey did too. So did Blair. That was why Blair latched onto Clarke as soon as Clarke stood up for them in the dungeons when she had first saved them._

 _Cameron shuddered when the Azgeda torturer, a huge, muscle-bound man with a bushy, salt and pepper beard and gleaming brown eyes named "Atano," holding the coiled up whip nodded to Clarke, beckoning her to walk forward and kneel at the post. Clarke just nodded back and started approaching. Cameron let out a tiny whimper, "no" and grabbed Clarke's left wrist. She heard murmurs around them, but didn't care. She couldn't let Clarke do this. This was happening because Clarke had to kill Ivarb to protect her. If anyone should get the whippings, it was her. Clarke turned her fierce gaze to Cameron, shaking her head and yanked her hand from Cameron's grasp. Cameron almost choked on her next whimper. She understood it and it made her stomach and chest hurt with agony. Clarke had to do this. To protect her. To protect her and the other twenty-six._

 _Cameron barely registered the sounds of people coming into the room as Clarke kneeled down in front of the post, back to Cameron now, taking her fur jacket off and pulling her heavy, thick shirt off, exposing her back that didn't have one mark of punishment on it yet, save for a few cuts and bruises from training. Clarke bent her head and held her arms out as two guards, Saktar and Mathias cuffed her to the post. Cameron felt the hot tears come, not caring what the Azgeda would say about her. She heard Hodge's hushed words, "God, what's happening?!"_

 _Her friends were back. Her heart hurt when she saw Aron, Linden, Lane, Micah and the others look ahead, seeing the horrific scene, just as Atano snapped the whip down, letting its wicked length fall to the floor in an intimidating snap. Clarke didn't even budge at the noise. This was all her fault. And she was going to have to tell the others what was happening._

 _Minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity._

 _The snaps of the whips were becoming unbearable. They were always hard to hear whenever it was being used on someone for showing even the slightest bit of disrespect to the queen, but now the sound was heartbreaking. Cameron had her head bent, squeezing her eyes shut. She thought she could watch and listen, but she just couldn't anymore. After the sixth lash she had cried out against her will and had looked away, covering her ears. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked fearfully to the left where she had felt the hand._

 _It was Kristin Blue. The young girl of seventeen, dark skin and dark eyes looked at Cameron with a soft gaze. "It's okay." The older girl promised. "This isn't your fault. It's Ivarb's." Cameron winced. So Kristin and most likely all the others knew too. It was the same exact thing Clarke had said. "It's alright." Kristin's voice came out more strongly and Cameron heard the pain in it, most likely caused by the snapping of the whip, hitting Clarke's flesh. Across the room, steadying themselves against the stone wall, were the aghast Hodge, Paul, Linden, Lane, Lorena and Bobbi. Bobbi, Linden and Lane all looked like they were desperately trying to restrain themselves from tearing through the room and crashing into the torturer right then and there. Hodge, whose face looked badly beaten, (David had said that Flynt had given him a good beatdown) was looking like he was trying not to have a meltdown and cry._

 _Paul just looked distressed. Like he knew he couldn't interfere but it was killing him not to._

 _Next to Kristin, Beryl and Finley weren't being as successful in trying not to lunge over and protect Clarke. Thankfully, Aron, Farron and Micah were holding them at bay. Aron, Farron and Micah who were younger and smaller, yet somehow disturbingly strong. Aron said dangerously, "Do you want Klark to suffer more? Go ahead and try to stop this and she will. I promise you, she will. And it will be even worse for her, because she won't just be whipped more. She'll have to see the two of you whipped. Try to stop this and you both will be whipped horribly right next to her. Do you want to do that to Klark? To hurt her like that? Everything she's doing now is to protect you. Do you want to make her trials over saving you be for nothing?"_

 _Cameron almost gawked when she heard Aron say that, partially surprised that she could hear anything over that horrible snapping noise in the middle of the room. But most of it? It was from hearing that Aron, this girl who was part of a people that Cameron had told herself were a savage people somehow understood Clarke so well. She understood Clarke's intentions almost as if she had read Clarke's mind. Cameron looked down at the young girl with a head of long, ebony hair in a braid, the young girl's fur covered arms marked with scars from training. On the girl's face, on her forehead specifically, she already had the scar, marking her honor as a killer. First kills of the Azgeda were always marked. According to Micah and Lane, the Trikru and some other tribes got marks on their peoples' backs after every kill, but for the Azgeda, the very first kill officially made you a warrior. You would still train as a "second" for skills. But you truly would have honor once you killed your first human being. It was why Farron's father treated him so badly. Farron hadn't yet killed his first warrior or bandit. He wasn't a true warrior yet. And his father was considered a war hero. That was why his father was so bitter towards his own son._

 _It was a belief that made Cameron's stomach turn. Aron had only been eight when she had killed her first. Micah had been ten. Linden and Lane, as they were both orphans and hadn't been as well protected as the children with families had, had been forced to kill even earlier. Lane apparently got her mark from the Azgeda a year after she joined them, when they learned Lane had killed her first man at the age of six. Linden had killed his first when he was nearly eight. But despite all four Lane, Linden, Micah and Aron bearing those marks, making them "true" Azgeda warriors, Aron had just said what in plain English, or Gonasleng, what Clarke was trying to do for them. And she understood. Aron understood. Somehow, despite being raised by savages, Aron understood._

 _Cameron knew that Clarke didn't agree with calling the Azgeda or any of the tribes savages. She insisted they weren't. That they were just trying to survive. But it was hard to not call them monsters when seeing things like what was happening to Clarke now. Clarke hadn't twitched, not once. She winced with each slash against her back, but beyond that, there was no sign that the strips of flesh that were being ripped from her back meant anything to her._

 _Clarke's back was starting to resemble a horrifically slaughtered animal's bloody side. It was a horrific scene to witness. Her eyes shifted weakly to the grim-faced Aron. Every word that Aron spoke of Clarke was accurate. She didn't know how, but Aron knew Clarke. Knew her well enough to know that Clarke was doing all this to protect them. She could see Clarke squeezing her eyes shut as the next sharp lash hit her, skin peeling back from her back, creating the continuous crimson dripping slices with each hit._

 _Cameron squeezed her eyes shut again, unable to keep watching Clarke's torture. She didn't understand why there had to be any punishment at all if the queen wasn't that angry about Ivarb's death. She was starting to lose track of how many lashes Clarke had suffered and was desperately trying to remember what the number was that the queen had ordered, hoping to keep track of them so she could have the end of Clarke's punishment in sight. She couldn't think of it. Her terrified, paralyzed mind was too lost to be able to grasp at the number that she recalled the queen ordering to be Clarke's receiving of punishment._

 _She just kept her eyes shut tightly and prayed to any god that might have been listening that it would end soon._

 _From next to Kristin and Cameron, the panicking Beryl looked at Aron. "We-we should get medical supplies, right? For Clarke's back. We need to get her looked at." Beryl's whimpers couldn't be helped. She didn't know how she hadn't burst out crying yet. She failed another person that had been trying to protect hr. She hadn't protected Clarke. She was almost relieved that Blair, Edmund and Casey weren't here. They'd have freaked out by now. Blair and Edmund probably would have had a nervous breakdown and Casey would have just burst out crying where Beryl couldn't. She wasn't sure how Aron was looking so calm. The young girl was looking back and forth at Clarke, her eyes never losing their anger as she glanced at the man wielding the whip._

 _It was a relief for once to see that anger. It told Beryl that even if Aron was just as brutal as these people, she didn't agree with the decision that had been made about Clarke. Though Beryl figured it had to do with hero worship more than anything else. Beryl had to admit, she was probably struck with it too. But they needed to look at Clarke's back when this was over. She could almost hear Clarke's cries dangerously close to breaking out of her mouth. Beryl's heart beat, panic somehow steadying. It was okay. It was okay. It was going to be okay. Clarke would be hurt, but they'd get stitches and aloe for her. They had done it before when she had taken previous punishments for their sake._

 _Beryl wanted to feel relieved by that self-reassurance. It didn't work. She still felt anxiety getting ready to choke her at any second. With each dripping of crimson blood from Clarke's back, Beryl could feel her hyperventilating rising. Next to her, Finley was heaving her breaths out, strands of thick, dark red-brown bangs in her eyes as the emerald orbs blazed with anger at the sight before her. She could feel her fur covered hands that had previously been protected from the cold now itch, aching to grab for her short sword's steel hilt wrapped in black leather and run it through the torturer's chest, all the way out to his back. All Clarke had to do was give the nod and Finley's sword would impale Atano right all the way through his body. As much as it made her want to scream, she knew she couldn't do it now. She, the others and maybe even Clarke herself would be killed if she tried. But as soon as she had the chance, when Atano was alone in an alleyway or something, she'd put the sword right through the son of a bitch. All Clarke had to do was say when._

 _The worst thing about this? Clarke wasn't even crying out. She was tensing up, locking her jaw closed. She was holding it in. Like she held all her pain in. It made Finley seethe at whatever had happened to Clarke before this. Clarke felt like she had to hide her pain._

 _Clarke, when she had first learned of their names, hadn't reacted much. But when Finley had told Clarke a second time what her first name was, Finley could have sworn that the other girl had flinched. She had looked wounded. Finley had asked why that was and Clarke had shaken her head, as if remembering something painful, but never said what it was exactly. Finely knew she was going to have to ask Clarke about that again at some point._

 _She knew of a place. She knew where the pig went sometimes, getting himself drunk off his ass in the taverns around the village nearby. She'd slice her sword into him then. She grit her teeth, just feeling the itchiness in her palm, yearning to wrap it around the sword's handle. She couldn't right now. She'd kill this son of a bitch._

 _But not now. Finley seethed. No. She had to wait. Then she could kill this monster._

 _Watching the scene as well were the Ice Queen and Ontari themselves seated on as close as this square could have to thrones, which were obviously intentionally made fancy brown, wooden chairs seated next to each other, carved upwards in the forms of horns. Nia stared with an emotionless appearance, but Ontari was staring hard at the sight, her hands grasping the knobs of the arms of her throne, gloved hands gripping them as if she was about to break the knobs off. Her eyes stared, fury in them, her lips tight together._

 _She had lost her mother to Jaha when he had sacrificed 150 people for oxygen, Finley was not going to lose another family member._

 _ **(Page Break)**_

 _Somehow, the next ten minutes flew by. Agonizing minutes that had made several of the twenty-six into either quivering masses of sobbing, or furious, glaring animals, just teetering on the edge of grabbing for their weapons to defend their general and teacher. Clarke was finally taken off the post, unfettered by the chains and dragged off to the healing chamber. Clarke let loose a pained gasp as she was dragged, legs sliding along the floor, hunched over, body being carried, led by the grip on her arms. Clarke was gasping as she was brought to the chamber. Finley was trying to keep back her snarl, her teeth bared. Her twitching hands stopped their movement when she felt hands on her own. She looked up at the hands on hers to see Beryl looking at her worriedly. "Calm yourself." Beryl whispered, voice pleading. "They might hurt Clarke worse."_

 _Finley glowered, glancing to where Parker was being restrained with near brute force by Lane and Linden. She wanted to demand how Clarke could be hurt worse than this, but the horrifying thing was, Finley knew that Beryl was right. Clarke could be hurt worse. The Azgeda were inventive. They'd find a way. Some absolutely disgusting, horrible way. It was a good thing that Lane and Linden were both well trained warriors and were muscled, because with the strength that Parker was using to thrash around, her teeth grinding and her bright green eyes even more furious than Finley's, it would normally be a wonder how anyone could hold the incensed teenager back from flinging herself, fists raised against Atano and likely getting herself killed, body lanced with spears and swords at least a dozen times._

 _Beryl, Finley and Aron trailed behind the guards that were carrying the bloodied Clarke off to the healing chambers. Cameron and Kristin came up close behind Beryl, Finley and Aron. The five of them entered the chamber almost as soon as Clarke and the three guards carrying her were inside. Clarke was carefully put down onto the wooden bench. The supply box with the medical tools and aloe and stitches were dragged over as soon as the guards released Clarke. The only guard that didn't let go of her, kept his hands in place to make sure she didn't topple over onto the floor. Her back was a ripped up, bleeding mess. Strips of flesh were hanging off her back. There was a chorus of whimpers, crying and sniffling around her as more footsteps entered the room. Clarke weakly lifted her head, seeing Beryl, Cameron and Kristin with tears in their eyes as they looked at her._

 _Parker and Finley both looked like they were about to blow up. Aron, Linden and Lane were watching Clarke in a way that made her feel like they half wanted to slap her for taking such a whipping and like they half wanted to hug her for being more or less okay. Micah was shaking her head, her dark blue eyes confused as to why anyone would do this to her. And Farron was trying hard not to burst out crying. The baby-faced young boy who barely was physically fit at all looked just about ready to curl up on the stone floor and cry his little eyes out. Clarke winced. Why was he here? Farron knew not to watch this stuff. Unless his father was present and keeping a command over his son to watch the gory scene so as to teach his son to toughen up, there was no reason for the boy to watch such a thing._

 _Farron whimpered, wiping the many tears from his eyes, "Klark, why did they do this to you? What do they think you did?" Clarke winced, smiling before she could help it. Farron of course that thought she couldn't possibly have done anything to even offend the Azgeda. Nothing that might even remotely come to deserve this. And this was one of the minor punishments that people got. "I lied to the Ice Queen." Clarke said, knowing that she wanted to be as honest with this sweet boy as she could. She wouldn't use deceit with him as Lexa and Anya had always done with her. "The warrior, Ivarb tried to hurt one of the twenty-six and I killed him. I didn't want anyone to suffer because I killed him, so I lied to the Ice Queen that I was the one that Ivarb tried to hurt so that no one else would get into any trouble."_

 _Farron shook his head, sniffling. "Ivarb tried to hurt someone?" "Yeah," Clarke said, making sure not to mention Cameron. She wasn't going to embarrass the younger girl. She had been through enough. "Who?" Farron asked, looking at Clarke vulnerably. Clarke shook her head, wincing as she smiled, pain shooting through her back, her voice strained when she talked. "It doesn't matter, sweetie. It's over now. Go with the others to train. You shouldn't be looking at my cuts."_

 _Farron shook his head insistently. He wasn't leaving Klark. She had been kinder to him than many of his own people had been. His own father hadn't once said a kind word to him or touched him gently. The only person that had ever done that since his mother's death had been Klark. Klark cared about him. About all of them. She didn't like risking them in fights against bears or bandits or other warriors. She always took the hits when she worried about them. Farron wished Klark was his blood family. He couldn't remember what his mother looked like. She had died when he was really little. But he always imagined that she was a lot like Klark. Warm, gentle, kind, loving and protective._

 _He hated seeing her bleeding like this. He had seen her acquire other injuries before in training or when sent out on hunts, but nothing like this. He knew Azgeda punishments were harsh, severe and enough to make him vomit. His father had forced him to watch the public executions of thieves who had broken into a grain vault where the bakers kept their flour and the rare wheat that that could be salvaged in the harsh climates. The thieves had broken in, bent on taking such rare items and selling them for a fortune. Given how cold their homes were, sometimes crops didn't grow. So wheat, flour, even shrubs could be a delicacy. The thieves, six of them had been put in the square where Klark had just been and they had been beaten to death, screaming all the while before their bodies were thrown out onto the ice to rot._

 _Farron had had horrendous nightmares for almost a year. Two years even. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard those men's screams. Every time he had screamed though, he had been flogged alongside the head by his father's rough, harsh hand. So before he would go to sleep, Farron would make sure to stuff a cloth into his mouth so that his screams when he had those nightmares would be muffled._

 _When he had nightmares, sleeping next to Klark and the other Sky people in their bunks, Klark never raised a hand to him. She would hug him, stroke his hair out of his eyes whenever he woke up and cried. She sang to him, getting him back to sleep. She and the other Sky People were the reasons why Farron had stopped sleeping at home. He couldn't live there when he knew he had a better option. He knew his father hated his choice and would glare at him with disgust, calling him weak every chance he got. But Klark had reasoned with the Az kwin that Farron could spend more time training with Wanheda. So the Az kwin never raised an argument for Farron to go back to his father and allowed the boy to be trained by Klark and stay with her more often._

 _When his father even reached for him, all Klark had to do was look right at the man and the once fierce warrior would retrieve his arm from trying to grab his son in a violent grip._

 _Klark was the reason why Farron had been safer in the past two months than he had ever been the whole lot of his life being here and living with his father._

 _Finley stepped forward, glaring, teeth grinding together visibly, "Leave, Hoks!" Farron winced at the Azgedasleng word "dogs" being thrown at the guards so readily by Finley. He was worried about how the guards might react. Predictably, the first guard looked infuriated, face contorting in offence and was about to lunge when Klark snapped at him, "You dare try to discipline one of my Seconds?" The harsh question, as Klark glared up with angered ice blue eyes at the guard made Farron almost gasp. It was stunning to see that though she was profusely bleeding from her wounds and had exerted herself in trying not to scream when she had been whipped, somehow had the energy to vault those dangerous words at a strong, armed guard. However, the guard was properly cowed. His head of black hair hung down as his eyes widened, clearly not wanting to risk the wrath of Wanheda and stepped away from Finley, still holding Klark up._

 _Farron shivered at the command that Klark had over the guards and the darkness in her blue eyes at her words. However, as soon as Klark turned to him and Finley, her eyes of ice and her stone face of anger had softened. A smile touched her face as she regarded the two young warriors in training. "It's okay." She said, looking at where Finley was standing over her. "I'll ask them to leave in a moment."_

" _Wanheda-" One of the other guards, Tipra protested before Clarke snapped, shaking her head, "My Seconds can keep me from falling over. They can see to my back fine. Leave. Now." There was a shared troubled glance between the three gruff guards, but in the end they consented. "Ain, Wanheda." The three guards slowly released Clarke and as soon as they did, Clarke started toppling off the bench, till Cameron, Finely and Beryl lunged forward and caught her, placing her back on the bench. As soon as it was clear that Clarke was safe where she was sitting, the three glowering guards eyed the three teenagers that were helping Clarke before they went out of the room, pushing past Parker and Paul harshly as they moved._

 _Once they were out, Aron had gone to the kit full of medical supplies, putting it down on the bench next to Clarke, taking things out. Parker swiftly closed the door behind her once she was sure no one else was trying to get in and closed the door with a loud bang. She and the others turned to the wounded Clarke._

 _Farron moved close, sitting down next to Klark, trying not to sniffle again. His father always was disgusted by how quick he was to tears. Before he could help himself, Farron hugged himself up to Klark's chest, making sure he avoided the slashes on her back. "Farron-" Finley snapped. "No," Klark interjected. "Farron, it's okay. I'm alright. I'll be a bit scarred." Farron could tell that saying the words were unbelievable, even to her. It sounded like it hurt for Klark to say._

" _Clarke," Parker said, leaning down and taking a few of the stitches and bandages and the aloe from the box that Aron was holding up, "What were you thinking? I mean, I know you said that you lied to get someone out of trouble, but was it really worth it? You do so much shit for us, were you really gonna take all those lashes for us after everything?" Clarke tilted her head up and looked weakly at Parker. "And if it had been you I killed Ivarb for? If the Ice Queen demanded an answer from you?" Parker's scolding appearance melted, replaced by a stunned one and she said nothing, much to Clarke's prediction. People didn't like taking responsibilities or being put on the spot. They always said "I'd have done something differently," but would they have? Octavia had acted so self-righteous at the mountain, but would she have done better? Of course they had no way of knowing and Clarke didn't care. Octavia had made up her mind and there was no changing it. Parker needed to make her own decision. If she was going to survive or not. If she was going to live WITH her fellow Sky People instead of constantly at their throats or not._

 _Parker didn't say anything else and Beryl took advantage, grabbing the tools off the other girl, going back to the bench and immediately opening up the case of aloe. The door suddenly swung open with a harsh clanking noise, making everyone jump. Aron and Linden both whirled on the door, unsheathing their short swords, standing protectively in front of the wounded Clarke. It was Casey. She was carrying a big, cracked, wooden bucket by its wooden handle. Her brown eyes became huge when she saw Clarke. "Oh, god." She whispered, edging close to the huddled group and the saw the injuries on Clarke's back. "Clarke….I knew it was bad, but…"_

 _Parker shook her head. "She says it's alright." Parker snorted her words out, making what she thought of Clarke's reassurance abundantly clear. "Please never mind that her back is falling apart. It's perfectly fine." Bitterness was laced in her voice as she glared at the ground. Casey seemed to ignore the other girl and went over to Clarke, putting the bucket down on the bench, revealing that the bucket was filled with melting snow. When Casey turned to her side slightly, they could all see now that she was holding another item in her hand. A cracked wooden bottle of ale. Likely taken from one of the bars or "taverns" as they were called here. Clarke nodded, understanding. She had personally used alcohol to sterilize wounds before she had been brought to the Azgeda. And she had used the tavern's alcohol before to sterilize the injuries that the twenty-six had. Casey must have heard what was happening and had brought the alcohol needed._

" _Casey, put the water on my wounds first. Then apply the alcohol." Clarke looked at Beryl. "Put the aloe on after my slashes get sterilized." Clarke winced against her will and winced again as she moved her back a bit. Cameron spoke to Beryl, "Could you hold her a second? I'm going to go get the soap and some clean cloth for her cuts." Beryl looked down at her hands, looking startled before Parker threw her hands up. "Oh for god's sake." The dark-haired girl grumbled, moving forward and pushing past Beryl and going to Clarke's side, taking the other girl's arm in her hand and steadying the other on the shoulder with her other hand. Clarke weakly lifted her head and looked up at Parker. Parker smiled. "I've got your back, Clarke." Parker cringed at her own words when Clarke lifted her head and her eyebrows went up, forehead covered in sweat. "Sorry. Shouldn't have said that. Just, I've got you, okay?" Clarke nodded, smiling gratefully._

 _Cameron took that moment to go to the stack of small folded up, clean cloths. They had been used regularly to sterilize cuts for months now since Clarke had chewed out the healers about making injuries more prone to infections if they burned the injuries. She had given them a long lecture about how they're warriors would slowly die from infections if they didn't wash the wounds. So soap and the rags were now in the healing rooms without any question as the Ice Queen had insisted on their presence. Cameron grabbed a few cloths and grabbed two piles of soap herbs and a mound of gelatinous animal fat, sheep fat, walking over to the bucket Casey had on the bench. Clarke nodded to the water, voice coming out ragged, "Heat the water first before anything." Parker snorted, "Oh, please. Like you need to tell us that. We know."_

 _Casey pushed the bucket of melting snow closer to where Cameron was walking up. She then picked it up by its handle and dumped its contents into the nearest metal pot, which had been used before to heat up water. Once the wooden bucket was empty, Casey put it down on the floor and grabbed a torch from the wall, putting the bottle of liquor down on the stone shelves. There was a shared sharp intake of breath between everyone in the room as Micah and Farron went to the metal pot on the floor full of cold water, putting on their furry gloves and they carried the pot over to Casey. Casey knelt down and placed the torch underneath the metal pot. The plumage of orange blades danced about at the bottom of the pot, sweat beginning to pour down all three Casey, Farron and Micah's faces as moments ticked on by fast._

 _The water soon started bubbling and steam began streaming up from its depths. Smiling, Cameron dropped the cloth and the soap herbs and fat into the pot and Casey removed herself from beneath the pot, pulling the torch away. The boiling pot heated up the cloth and dissolved the soap herbs and fat in nearly only one minute. Next, Casey put the torch back into its holder, pulled out her furry, grey glove and put it on her left hand and handed Parker the bottle of whiskey, ordering the other to uncork it. Parker rolled her eyes and did as she was instructed, uncorking the wooden bottle of the whiskey she held, looking at Clarke for permission. Clarke nodded. She knew it was going to hurt. But it was better that than infection. Because one would lead to her back being in unimaginable pain, the other would mean she'd probably lose a huge portion of her entire back._

 _Slowly, Micah and Farron put the pot back onto the ground. Casey stood over the pot as both young Azgeda children backed away from the basin. She sighed, leaning in, grabbing the soaked, heated rag, drenched with soap herbs and fat now, fishing it out of the pot and brought it over to Clarke, pressing the soapy rag to her slashes, making Clarke's head go back, the blonde gasping in pain. The first layer of appliance of disinfection had been effectively put on Clarke's injuries. As Casey swiped the rag along Clarke's bloody back, Parker walked over with the wooden bottle, tipping it, the mouth of the bottle being held over her wounds like a threatening, sharp ax. Beryl put down the rest of the healing equipment and grabbed the small, long, thin, silver scissors._

 _She brought the scissors to Parker, nodding to the scissors. Parker sighed. Beryl was going to cut away the strips of flesh hanging from Clarke's back. If she cut way the pieces hanging, it was less likely for those pieces to catch on anything and make Clarke's injuries worse. Aron went and grabbed a piece of small, slim, sanded down wood, the size and shape of the middle part of a dagger's hilt, wrapping it in cloth and brought it to Clarke's mouth as Clarke caught sight of Beryl bringing up the now sanitized scissors. Clarke let out a quiet groan and opened her mouth wide. Aron slipped the bit into Clarke's mouth, the blonde being forced to bite down on it as Beryl closed in on her injured back with the scissors._

 _The next hour that was marked only by a lit candle's reducing size, was filled with anxiety, whimpering from the various kids and pouring hot sweat from all of them and Clarke as they cleaned her wounds continually with soapy water, then alcohol, then when they dried her back up carefully with clean cloths, they applied the aloe. Beryl had successfully clipped away the hanging shreds of flesh from Clarke's back and Parker and Casey had each carefully cleaned and sanitized those cuts where Beryl had clipped them. Aron, Micah, Farron, Hodge, Cameron and Kristin were holding Clarke, making sure she didn't fall off the bench, letting her tense and writhe in pain. Farron and Hodge had one of her legs. Cameron and Kirstin were holding her arms, one of them on each arm and Aron and Micah had Clarke's other leg._

 _In case her upper body moved too much from the painful sensations, Parker or Casey would hold her more carefully._

 _Linden was staying close to the door, listening in to hear if anyone was approaching in case he needed to tell them to go away or threaten them. Wanheda was to be left in peace and allow the people that she trusted to tend to her._

 _Lane was taking a cool rag and wiping away Clarke's sweat, that kept coming with each second that flew by. The others, Paul, Bobbi, Finley, West and Lorena were all tense and heaving out fearful breaths. Well, for four of them that was true. Finley was just growling in anger. She was waiting by the door with Linden, her hand just itching to go for her short sword strapped to her waist, wanting to use it on someone after seeing Clarke getting whipped._

 _All Finley could think about was the back alley where she had seen the torturer, Atano come out from the tavern, drinking before. She had seen him once after she and West had personally purchased a few drinks to help them cope with their severe training with well-earned silver coins that they had won in various fights where the odds were bet against them. They had won quite a lot in those fights and there had been quite a few dismayed Azgeda. The only reason she and West hadn't been attacked for such an "injury" to the Azgeda's pride had been because they were so valuable as leverage to the Ice Queen against Clarke._

 _There. At the tavern, Finley decided. As soon as she saw Atano again leaving the tavern, she would pull him into the alleyway next to it and slip knives deep into his chest and stomach. That would be when she would avenge the pain Clarke was experiencing now. She couldn't do anything to heal Clarke, she had no experience or patience as a healer. Finley personally wasn't sure how Parker had the patience, but she sure didn't. As soon as she saw Atano again, she'd kill him. That would be what she could offer Clarke. Revenge. If nothing else, she could avenge Clarke's suffering. Suffering they had both endured. All the lashings all the times Clarke acted as a human shield for them and the forty lashes Finley received simply for insulting the queen after Clarke was first branded._

 _She knew what Clarke would probably say to that. That it was her own fault for lying, or that it was mainly the Ice Queen's fault for ordering it. But she couldn't blame Clarke for protecting Cameron. And the Ice Queen was too powerful and too dangerous. Clarke had explained it many, many times to the point that it had become like an iron law amongst all of them, a mantra repeating itself in their brains. The Ice Queen had to live because she was the only one of the Azgeda keeping them alive because it benefited her. They could say what they wanted about the bitch that Nia was, but she apparently was a pragmatic bitch. She saw the twenty-six that had been thrown down here and had seen them as useful to hold over Clarke. But that was the limit to how useful Finley and the others were to Nia._

 _And Nia perhaps was one of the few Azgeda to realize that._

 _Even if Finley somehow succeeded in killing Nia, what would happen then? Would they be treated as fairly if Ontari was the next person in power? Or would she forgo the deal and kill them all? Or give them even less rights than they had? As much as Finley liked to think that there wasn't anyone worse than Nia, Clarke had made it very clear that there was always someone worse in the world._

 _So for now, Nia was someone they had to live with. Despite the fact that she was a monster. Finley had learned the hard way why you couldn't throw words like "Monster" at the queen so blatantly a month ago. The wounds on her back still ached._

 _But Atano was expendable, and Finley needed to get her anger and frustration out on something living. He would do since he had administered all the whippings Clarke had endured. Not just these ones. Any time one of the twenty-six had done something wrong-and there had been plenty, since for the first two months, the twenty-six had been adapting to their new environment and new captors, Clarke had taken the beatings and the punishments, save for a few unique cases. Clarke was acting as a human shield for all of them and it made Finley completely and utterly vexed. At best._

 _She hated that she couldn't do more for the older girl. She winced when she heard more muffled hisses and cries from Clarke and turned to see Beryl putting those damn scissors away and Parker thankfully putting down the rest of the equipment. Once they made sure that Clarke's back was dried up, save for the aloe placed over the cuts and slashes, Beryl grabbed the gauze and Casey grabbed the stitches and the needles. Finley's lower jaw almost broke at how hard she was grinding her teeth together. There was only so much she could do and she knew it. She couldn't stay here and watch. She knew she couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to be here, she couldn't offer anyone anything. Certainly not Clarke._

 _She needed to get out of here._

 _She turned to Linden. "If anyone so much as knocks on this door," Finley growled as the dark-haired boy set his light green eyes on her, "Take their hands off." Finley didn't even care if Linden legally couldn't do that. She grabbed the metal latch of the door and swung it open, dashing out, furious. She heard a pair of footsteps chasing after her before the door closed. Finley cautiously turned to see her friend, West closing in on her. West, the now very pale and frightened young girl, with short, black hair and dark brown eyes nearly crashed into the dark-redhead. "Finley, what's going on?" West asked. Finley shook her head, hair in a ponytail flailing a bit with the movement._

" _What do you think? You saw what was going on. I can't do anything for her. And she's done everything for us." Finley practically snarled all the words out. "I want to kill Atano." West made a shushing sound, bringing her right index finger to her lips animatedly. "Shut up, Finley." The other girl hissed. "Do you want to get killed? Or tortured? Were the forty lashes last month not enough for you? If you want to be killed, then why don't you just talk louder? I don't think everyone in Azgeda has heard you yet." West looked around the hallway, making sure no one was around and turned to Finley and spoke in the quietest of voices to her friend, "If we want to get revenge for Clarke, then we have to do it so no one suspects it's us."_

 _Finley's eyes went wide at what her friend was saying and smirked. So West wasn't against the idea._

 _The now angered, black-haired girl said in the still very quiet voice, "We can't do it today, tomorrow or any time soon. If Atano just drops dead this soon, people will figure it out. We have to do it at least a couple of months from now. And we have to make it look like it was an accident or just some bar brawl." Finley almost laughed at West's apparently conspiratorial mind. She always knew West was good at planning things, like their little pranks on the Ark and plans and conspiracies, including the one that got them locked up in the Skybox in the first place, but she hadn't thought West would have the mental capacity for murder._

 _Not training or a fight. Actual planned murder._

 _Damn. Finley tried not to grin at how appropriate she found this. A month and half ago she probably would have been terrified by West's decision and planning. But now? After all the days and weeks growing into months where Finley saw just how brutal life down here was? This was just a dime a dozen type of things that happened down here. And they were doing it to protect their leader and the woman that had been protecting them the entire time they had been down here. They had to protect Clarke. And if the occasional murder did that, then why not?_

" _Alright." Finley said, smirking, "We probably shouldn't use our own weapons either." West nodded. "Now you're thinking fast. We'll talk about this more. But right now we have to lay low. Like I said, if anything happens soon, people will immediately figure out who killed him. Or have a list of immediate suspects. Right now? Let's go to the fighting ring and punch each other a few times. It'll help us feel better and not have to think about this so much."_

 **Kamirun: Cameron**

 **Author's note:**

 **Yeah, so sorry about that. Again, any that read this and were effected in the way that I described before the chapter, my apologies. I am taking a breathe from ranting (well, trying to) but I'd like to ask this one question out of sheer curiosity. Why does Rothenberg hate Asian women? I feel like this has been happening for a while. Anya, Callie Cartwig, Dr. Tsing, Hanna Green, Alie or Becca, whatever bullshit was going on in the third season. Really, I feel like this is a thing. Any Asian women that pop up either die horribly or are evil, most likely both. Literally, that's all five women, dead.**

 **Spoiler warnings for those that haven't seen the bullshit of a third season for what I'm about to say.**

 **So again, I'm asking because I'm getting suspicious, why does he hate Asian women? I mean, he hates women in general, sure, but particularly he seems to hate Asian women particularly when he's not torturing women that love other women. Why? Am I the only one that's noticing this? Black men too. Am I the only one noticing that black men that are straight are hated by Rothenberg? The only black guys alive now are Jaha (a piece of garbage) and Nathan Miller, who is gay and therefore not a threat to white or lighter skinned straight men. Think about it. Lincoln was black and straight, he loved Octavia, he was killed. Wells was straight (as far as we know) and black and loved Clarke and was killed. Lighter skinned men like Bellamy, Monty, they're still around. Are they white? No. But are they black? No. It seems Rothenberg's rather insidious in his racism and misogyny.**

 **White men and lighter skinned men are apparently entitled to all women, regardless of race and sexuality. Miller isn't a threat because he's gay. Gay men aren't competition for the women, so the white or lighter skinned men have nothing to worry about from them. But black men like Lincoln and Wells who are in love with women? Attracted to women? Anya? Lexa, a lesbian? Clearly, they must be killed. And don't try to tell me that Anya is straight. Did you actually look at her?**

 **And mission to try not to rant...failed. Walks away from flames.**


	6. Strange what a few months will do

**Betsbets: She did? Well, there you go. Firstly, so happy that we have cannon confirmation from the actress herself. It makes me wish even more that she and Clarke had had more time together. I trust her word more than that farce of a writer's word. But it just goes to show, apparently he's very threatened by lesbians. Because how can two women possibly be happy together? There is absolutely no way that two women can truly be happy together, right? That is the epitome of misogyny and patriarchy.**

 **Right, I will try to exorcise restraint now.**

 **Trigger warnings for violence, mentions of attempted rape, a victim blaming herself and mentions of consensual underage sex between people of the same age. And warnings for mentions of previous anti-Semitism on the Ark when it comes to Glenn Goldberg**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 6: Strange what a few months will do:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Kristin tossed the slim, wooden bottle of whiskey to Mario, who caught the bottle just barely by its top, fingers keeping the mouth of the bottle from dropping. He brought the whiskey bottle to his left hand, his hand grasping around the fat bottom, his right hand only releasing the thin neck of the bottle after he pulled out the cork in the bottle's mouth and tossed it into the fire pit, the cork bathed in tongues of flame. A startled remark wrenched in a dark laugh from Kristin's throat, "You're going to drink the whole thing?!"

"Why not?" Mario tossed back, leaning his black-haired head back, bringing the bottle's mouth to his lips, downing the burning liquid. He sure as hell wasn't going to share this with any of the Azgeda men or boys. Clarke and none of the others were here and Kristin didn't drink, so there was no need to share the whiskey at all. His right hand grabbed the neck of the bottle again and tore it from his lips as he grinned, gulping down the wave of the alcohol. "That's good. Are West, Edmund and Avery coming back soon with those elk already?" Kristin glowered at the boy. "Don't you think about anything besides your stomach?" "Sure." Mario said, turning to the fireplace and sitting down on the brown carpeted, stone floor, legs splayed out in front of him. "I think about going to the bathroom, I think about jerking off since most women in Azgeda scare the crap out of me, I think about trying not to get my head taken off in training."

Mario practically felt Kristin smirk as she gently kicked her right foot against his brown bear fur covered back, earning a chuckle from him. "Give it a rest, Bianchi. You've got plenty of girlfriends here. And they're scary enough. You don't need your hands to do anything," Kristin grimaced, chuckling again, "This is more than I ever need to talk at all about your dick, Mario. The point is, your sexual needs are pretty well taken care of. Just ask Tonia, Muara, Zela and Payna." Mario snorted, hanging his head down as he leered at the fire, taking another swig of whiskey. Mario was known well amongst his fellow twenty-six, his general, Clarke and a few others in their group as a whore. Mario had proudly pointed out to Bobbi who had called him this a month ago that he was no whore. Whores had sex for money. He was a proud man slut. Bobbi and Sabine had both stared at him, stunned before both girls had broken out into uncontrollable laughter.

Luckily they all still had their implants in them and couldn't get pregnant or impregnate anyone. Mario had his still inside him as well. So the many series of group sex he had had with Azgeda girls his age, some older, though Clarke carted him off by his right ear, her hand gripping him, telling him he was to never sleep anyone below his age as he was now seventeen and to never sleep with anyone older than eighteen until he turned eighteen himself. Mario had thought it was silly since obviously these people operated by different rules from the people on the Ark and he doubted that any sexual acts he committed, as long as they were all consensual would be frowned upon. But he took to Clarke's words, as he wasn't interested in earning a beating from her. Physical punishments from her were almost nonexistent, but when she finally actually hit them to punish them instead of train them, you remembered the lesson. And those were very specific cases. Clarke's exact words to Mario in an ice cold voice had been, "I think you having sex with a minor would earn you a few lost teeth, plus a lost tongue, don't you?"

Mario had happily heeded his mentor's warning and only slept with girls the same age as him. Thankfully there were a lot. Most of them scared the crap out of him, since their idea of being strong was linked unquestioningly with how many heads you could bring back from a massacre. But Muara and Zela were both a bit more chill than that. Payna wasn't, but accepted that her bed partner wouldn't be interested in nearly as much warfare as she would be when needed. Tonia and a few other girls that Mario had sex with in taverns weren't interested in talking, so not much concerns of shared tastes or lack of shared tastes outside of the most base ones were necessary to bring up.

Mario smirked after he had almost downed half the bottle, feeling his sinuses flare with burning heat from the whiskey. Usually he'd have scratch marks on his back from Payna. Not that he was complaining. He looked up at Kristin. "And you or anyone else are ones to talk?" Kristin scowled. "Please, as if my relationship with Gray or Lee was anything to talk about. Lee is boring and Gray and I are back together." Mario snickered. Their love lives of course were one of the many things down here that were…..well, unconventional, to say the least. Not that Mario had ever had that much of one on the Ark, since he was of lower class and chaos had been more and more prevalent on the Ark as time had gone on. Mario had been almost fifteen when Thelonius Jaha, Abby Griffin and Markus Kane and all the others had descended down to Earth, according to Clarke, in "Trikru" territory. When that had happened, he had made sure to stay safe from all the riots and the screaming crowds trying to get to the parts of the ship that were going down to Earth.

The few nights of sex he had experienced had been with two different people who he had never allowed to know about each other. A young girl his age at the time, Maggie and a boy a year older than him, Luke. He had told the others this three months ago and they had been stunned, as Mario had never made it obvious that he was bisexual. He just slept around with girls so much that it was an unexpected revelation. It was just that yeah, Mario _was_ bisexual but he leaned more towards girls. Neither Maggie nor Luke had offered much of a comfort then. Maybe all three of them were just too panicked over everything that was happening on the Ark at the time to really feel anything, but it had felt completely empty. Sure, going down on Maggie, her riding him and Luke jerking him off or fucking Luke in the ass had all been well and good and hot but there hadn't been any real spark. Nothing like what he had with a lot of the girls he had been with here. Like Paya or Muara. Maybe the Azgeda were just so much more intense than the Sky People were, but Mario was a thousand times more thrilled in these relationships than with Luke or Maggie. And they all actually knew about each other.

Bailey was still in her intense, strong relationship with Benik, Parker and Simone had ended up in a relationship which had surprised everyone when they had found out as of two months ago, Jesse and Casey had also started a relationship together a month ago, Avery had had a couple of girlfriends here and there, Frank had a boyfriend, Christopher had a sort of an affectionate relationship with a fellow trainee, Daya, though Mario was certain it was more about the sexual aspects. One of the bigger surprises down here had been Glenn's success at life. But that was another story. And Finley had a very deep and intense relationship with another girl, Jarra, who she had bonded with only on the second half of the second month they had gotten here.

Mario genuinely had never seen any relationship so intense as Finley and Jarra's. Only after two months they had been inseparable and had been able to communicate just by looking at each other. Mario had seen Clarke look at Finley and Jarra. Her eyes had shined with something sad. Mario hadn't understood it at the time, till Casey and Beryl had bluntly reminded him of Clarke's relationship with the Commander of the twelve tribes and her general, Anya, and they had both betrayed her at Mount Weather when the 100 and the rest of Clarke's people had needed the two of them and the Grounder armies the most.

Clarke hid it well, though and she was happy for everyone. Mario loved Clarke as everyone did. He didn't know how exactly those two Trirkru Grounders could possibly have done what they had done. Even without Clarke explaining that the Commander was fucking her own people over by giving the Mountain Men bone marrow, the idea just seemed utterly unspeakable. Disgusting and unforgivable. Leaving allies to die? Leaving someone like Clarke after she cured all the Reapers to die? As Avery had said once, how hadn't there been at least fifteen assassination attempts on the Commander's life since Mount Weather for being such a tyrant? As far as Mario, Kristin and all the others knew, the Commander and Anya were no different from the Ice Queen herself.

Mario supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by anything by now. Their status down here in the Azgeda had always had its privileges. And now after all they had done as part of the Azgeda, they had actually earned some of those privileges. Mario was no war hero like Clarke, Beryl, Glenn, Parker, Cameron, Christopher, Paul, Bailey, Avery, Bobbi, Finley, West, Jesse or Casey were. He wasn't even a well-trained general. But he _was_ one of the best hunters in the main village where the queen and her army resided. He wasn't the best because of course, he couldn't be and the Azgeda were above all else Grounders and Grounders were expected to be better hunters than most of them, but amongst this village, Mario, David, Blair and a few others were the best hunters. Glenn of course, being absolutely lethal with his arrows was one of the best as well. Mario himself had brought back countless hauls of food for feasts and for the village. Paul, Blair, Kristin, Beryl, Casey, Glenn, Jesse, Avery, Martin, Simone, Lorena, Edmund, (and Farron and Lane too) had come to be well-trained healers with Clarke's teachings.

Though he was no general, Mario was a good teacher and had trained a small group of young kids around the age of six to ten who had not yet wielded swords how to sword fight. All with wooden swords of course.

The queen didn't approve, but Clarke had simply said that risking injuries that might lead to infection or blood loss and eventually lead to the children's deaths was a terrible waste of future warriors. Mario knew that that excuse was just an act to make it look like she had an Azgeda mindset by now. Clarke's only concern was for the children's safety.

The village, being the kingdom in the Azgeda for the Ice queen was the biggest village of their tribe. So it had the most platoons. Mario's little troop of kids that he trained Mario would train the kids with wooden swords and then they'd move on to be trained by Paul and Bailey to expertly wield battleaxes. Glenn had his own group that he trained how to expertly fire arrows, given that Glenn was frightening with a bow and a set of arrows. The guy made Robin Hood look like a wimp by comparison. They didn't have Seconds yet. Not legitimately made Seconds who would obey their every command, but as they each had gotten higher up in this world in the eyes of the queen, their status had grown and in doing so, they had far bigger rooms, far better weapons. Eventually it would be time for each of them to choose a Second.

Maybe a year and a half from now. They had earned their scars fast. Incredibly fast for outsiders and for people that were so "soft" by comparison with the Azgeda themselves. It was one of the reason why so many Azgeda saw them as strange spectacles. They were thought to have been weak, but had brought an amazing amount of glory to the queen of the Ice Nation.

Mario answered to Kristin in response over Gray and Lee, "I'm surprised Lee hasn't tried to kill Gray yet. We all know he has a temper." Kristin shrugged her now muscled shoulders that had once been nearly bony, but in the past six months had become quite broad, "Doesn't everybody?" She smirked, "Remember what Christopher tried to do to David when he found out about David and Ellie?" Mario shuddered, losing his grin. Yeah, he hadn't forgotten that at all. A month after they had landed, five months ago, Christopher had attacked David. Ellie had been a girl back on the Ark that Christopher had liked. As it turned out, Ellie and David had been seeing each other and David, who had had his implant in at the time, thankfully, had had his first time with Ellie on the Ark. When Christopher had understood that it was the same girl he had had a thing for, he had practically chased David out of the group's shared hut, grabbing his short sword, plus threatening the other boy with his own heavy snow boot as well. Of course this left Christopher with only one shoe and his only sock covered foot bathed in snow for a few minutes before a pair of guards restrained both boys. Before that, when Christopher had grabbed his sword, David had thankfully, having lived in Azgeda long enough to know not to ever be that far from his double-edged ax. He snatched it up from where it had lain on the floor and thrown it up, the curved blade of his ax and Christopher's short sword clashed in a clanging blast in seconds. When Christopher had chased David outside, their blades clashing a few more times, Christopher had smacked his boot at David's head.

Christopher had actually been successful in smacking David a few times with his boot before he had been held back and David had had a few red marks on his face, eventually to be bruises.

When answers had been demanded from the boys by the queen herself when she had learned of the fight. She hadn't deemed it worth anything more than seven lashings. When Christopher had pleaded with Clarke to help him, she had exploded at him that if he wanted to do something like waste his time over something so shallow as trying to kill one of the people in the same boat as him over "who David slept with" then that was his business. She made it clear that this time, she had not been helping him. That had made everyone stunned. Clarke had always either taken the punishments for all of them, or she had spoken up for them and had gotten them out of being punished.

Clarke had ordered Christopher to dry his foot off and wrap his foot in furs to make sure he didn't get hypothermia.

Then Christopher, after his foot was all covered and bound in layers and layers of fur, for once in his life in Azgeda, had received whippings. Seven of them. The whimpering Christopher, who David and Paul had helped carry back to the healing center and had held him as Clarke applied aloe and alcohol and soap to his wounds. While Christopher had cringed with each of Clarke's appliance of the aloe to his back, Christopher had met David's eyes as David held the shaking brown-haired boy's fragile gaze, David had squeezed his arms, smiling reassuringly. Christopher had sighed, hanging his head, maybe too embarrassed to react. After that, David and Christopher had been as close as brothers for five months now.

Kristin dropped down on the rug next to her brother. She side-glanced at Mario. "And to answer your all powerful, demanding stomach, Avery, West and Edmund are coming back soon. Get over it. You'll have your elk soon. Of course, assuming Avery doesn't get attached to an elk." Mario shook his head, smirking. The very fourth time Avery had gone out hunting three months into their stay here, she and her companions, Finley, Beryl and Casey, and a pair of two Azgeda warriors in training and they had stumbled across a herd of caribou, or as the Azgeda called them, "Lano," or as they used to be called before the bombs had hit, "Reindeer." There had been about fifteen of them as far as the six warriors in training could see, and just when Casey and one of the two Native born Azgeda, Talay were about to fire arrows at the caribou when Avery had pleaded with them not to kill the reindeer, since her now deceased mother back on the Ark, who had died in one of the riots had used to look at all the Christmas designs in books she and her parents had, and she formed a strong nostalgic attachment to reindeer.

Predictably West had been nearly belligerent in her disapproval of Avery's hesitance. She had used all her infuriated commands that she had picked up from other trainers in the Azgeda over the months when she had yelled at Avery. Nostalgia wasn't worth losing at least five day's worth of three full meals, depending on how many they caught before the animals fled for their lives. Unfortunately Talay hadn't thought of that when he had yelled at Avery and alerted the reindeer to their presence. The reindeer needless to say, got away and Casey was left with firing arrows at furry hindquarters that soon disappeared and the arrows embedded themselves into the snow. So that had left them with one particular thing to remember. Don't go after reindeer. At least so long as Avery was amongst the number of hunters.

Elk, if not bear, lynxes, muskoxen or otherwise would likely be the meat they'd be provided with. There would be hunting parties sent out. Six or seven the smallest number and seventeen or nineteen the largest. West, Avery and Edmund were in a group of ten and they had carts, so if they were successful as they often were, they'd have plenty of meat for the next week or so.

Mario took a gulp and reached into his belt when he was sure that the whiskey was mostly in him and he pulled out a leather bound pocket knife that he had won in a fight against a Second who had been hoping to spill Sky blood. Mario had kicked the fucker right in the nuts. He had then slammed his palm into the young man's chin, pushed his head back and rammed his left fist into the young man's throat, sending him down on the ground, gasping for breath. The young man, Dano had then been kicked right in the face while he was already down by Mario. He hadn't wanted to beat the guy while he was down, but as he and all the other Sky people had learned while being here, if you didn't beat an opponent while they were down, even if it was just in the arena or training, you were considered weak and would be killed. Or thrown into the dungeons until a more…productive use of you could be applied. Mario, by the time he had faced Dano, had realized that backing down and not being the more ruthless one in the fight was not an option. He had to be a bully, a thug if he wanted to avoid being thrown into the dungeons or avoid being killed.

So he had rammed his knee into Dano's face while Dano was down and then kicked his right leg out, foot smacking into Dano's face, blood spurting out of the young man's nose as he went collapsing with the cold floor. Any onlookers had been stunned. Afterwards, a resentful, bloodied faced, but resigned Dano had directly handed Mario what he had bet on beating the Sky boy. His knife. He might have been a lowlife but even he had a code of honor to live by and had stuck to it. Despite the angry resentment in his dark brown eyes, Dano had still given Mario his knife, which he had bet on the fight. Mario often kept it hidden in a small compartment on his belt or in one of his boots.

The knife's blade was as long as two of Mario's index fingers put together and as wide as half of Mario's palm when it unfurled into he wicked blade that it was. It was kept hidden in its leather sheathe, but a small push up of Mario's fingers and the button he had pushed sprung the blade forward, making it spread wide with an advanced, mechanical springs. No one was sure where Dano got it. Dano had just said that he got it off a killed warrior in battle. The warrior had been from the Podakru. Mario brought the knife to the wooden bottle, starting to carve the desired shape into it. "So Ontari has everything in place?" Mario asked, his face glowing orange in the fire's light. He could practically hear Kristin nodding enthusiastically, "Of course she does. Just give it a few weeks. And then….." Mario glanced at his sister, seeing how she was miming slicing her fingers across her throat in a decapitation motion, face full of a big grin. Mario snickered. It probably wasn't in good taste in talking about how they eventually would decapitate the queen, but the bitch had had it coming for a long time. Ontari's forces would cover them.

When the time came, Ontari's forces would strike. Nia's head would be on a pike in front of the palace. And Ontari and Clarke would sit on the thrones. Married. The queens of the Ice Nation. Six months ago, neither of these two once Sky teenagers would ever once have even thought of the possibility of planning a coup. Planning mass murder of the people that had held them captive. But then again? Six months ago they hadn't each had at least nine different facial scars each between only two of them, scars from punishment, torture, training, battle or otherwise, they hadn't had nearly as many nightmares and night terrors as they did now, nightmares and night terrors remembering how rotting meat smelled as flayed and tortured bodies were left out to rot, then freeze over a period of time, traumatized by the sights of dismemberment and beheadings and whippings, or the memories of being burned on their backs with iron brands so badly that they could still remember smelling how their own cooked flesh smelled like.

Six months ago, none of them had been forced to raze villages to the ground. But between the twenty-six of them, Clarke and Aron and the other four Azgeda children that always accompanied them, in the past four months alone, six different villages had been ransacked and destroyed for defiance. The queen had been getting ready to send them out anyway. Ivarb's defiance had just forced her hands quicker and Parker, Beryl, Glenn, Christopher and Cameron had been the first five to suffer from it.

But no more. That would change soon. Real soon. Mario traced his finger over the cut he had made to the wood of the bottle, the brands on his back burning as he remembered the names and faces of each dungeon master he planned to bleed to death for the pain they caused his brothers and sisters. Clarke had mostly protected them from their punishments. But there were punishments, at the beginning that even she couldn't protect them from. Every now and then, they'd screw up so badly that Clarke would be forced to stand back and do nothing while the twenty-six were being horribly punished. He and Kristin both remembered it all just like everyone in their family did. Finley's very first whipping. Forty lashes for calling the queen a monster when Nia had forced Clarke to receive brands on her shoulders and the center of her back as signs of a legendary warrior and the eventual queen.

Clarke, when she and everyone else had heard Finley's cry, had stiffened and stared at the teenager as if she could kill Finley herself. And for good reason. Clarke had done everything she could and Finley had nearly destroyed that. She had screamed the word 'monster' at the queen and had nearly died. Clarke and the others had spent all night and the next five days making sure that Finley's wounds didn't get infected and that she didn't bleed to death. Clarke hadn't even paid attention to the burns on her back as she had tended to Finley's wounds. Kristin had first been burned and scarred when she had killed as many as ten warriors in battle from a rival army, coming from the South, challenging the queen's power. Clarke's order, behind the queen's back had been simple always to the twenty-six. When they went out on missions, if they could pretend that they were being loyal soldiers, then so be it, but they had to come back alive. They had to protect themselves and each other.

The only reason why either of them or any of the twenty-six were still alive was because of that order. Mario thought about Finley's first run into true battle. She had had almost an immediate talent for it. A disturbing talent for it, actually. While Beryl, Cameron, Christopher, Glenn and Parker had come back, irrevocably mentally scarred. But Finley? If she had been mentally scarred, Mario sure couldn't see it. Two weeks only after Clarke took thirty whippings for the little lie she had told the queen about Ivarb, Finley had been sent out on a five day long mission to invade a small group of spies sent by the Yujleda, a tribe incredibly loyal to the commander and who were told to keep an eye on the Ice Queen because even then the Commander had suspected that the Ice Queen would try something in wake of Clarke missing. Apparently the Commander still didn't know that the Ice Queen had Clarke. For the rest of the tribes, "Wanheda" was just _missing._ Not captured. They had been sent out to Norway (which apparently was where they were, as they realized from a map they saw once of Azgeda land), all the way from North America which was where a majority of the other tribes were from.

Finley had happily put an end to their interference. When every last one of the spies had been forced to their knees before the platoon of Azgeda soldiers, some of the men had talked about forcing themselves on the spies and Finley had heard that and had acted fast. She had decapitated the spies, slit the throats of others. She had given them merciful deaths before the Azgeda men could consider raping any of the spies. She had covered her kind act up quickly, grinning at the shocked Azgeda soldiers, saying that all their blood was now spilling for the queen and that the dogs that challenged the queen should be left out in the open to rot or be ripped apart by animals because they weren't worth anything else.

Did the Azgeda and the other tribes believe in the afterlife? Sure. But did Finley or any of the other twenty-six? Aside from Glenn, because his parents were Jewish and taught him their beliefs, no. They didn't think anything bad would happen to any of the so-called "spirits" if they left the bodies to rot because there were no spirits. But in the end, a somewhat sympathetic Azgeda soldier had come up and set the bodies ablaze, at least wishing to be respectful of the dead. There had been talk about what had happened. The rather bitter men who had wanted to have their fun with the Yujleda spies had gossiped about it openly and Clarke and the others had heard. And they had heard of what Finley had done for the Yujleda spies. Even without the threats of rape from the Azgeda men, the spies most likely were fated to the dungeons where they would have been tortured to death or flayed alive. It was a sick situation, but Mario had never recalled Clarke ever being prouder of Finley, apart for when Finley protected the younger kids from older thugs that liked to pick on the younger Seconds.

The Azgeda men could complain all they wanted, but it was clear to the rest of the twenty-six, Clarke and the Azgeda charges they had what Finley had done. What she had done had been a mercy. Pure and simple. It wasn't that different from what Clarke had had to do for that traumatized kid, Jasper. He would have been cut again and again until he slowly bled to death. A horrifying death. But Clarke had been merciful to him. She had slipped a knife that the engineer that Clarke talked about a lot, Raven had given her into his chest and killed him quickly. Sometimes death, even if it was an ending, a permanent ending as opposed to what Grounders believed, was preferable to whatever alternate punishment there was.

But Finley was their grim reaper. She was their soldier of pure death. After what had happened with Ivarb and the whippings at Atano's hands, Finley's more than strong resolve to tolerate the Azgeda had transformed into the attitude of a soldier made of steel. She would do whatever it took to make sure her people were safe. From this tribe, from other villages, from bandits, from other tribes. Whatever it took. A trail of bloody bodies usually piled up when Finley went off doing her duty as she was ordered and as far as Mario could see, there was no signs of regret, at least not in public. The night terrors that Finley had during the night and the bouts of PTSD symptoms that she possessed told him and everyone else who were close to Finley, otherwise. But it was impressive that Finley could pretend in public that she was that unaffected. Though Mario suspected that Finley was inspired more or less by Parker, Christopher, Beryl, Cameron and Glenn's resolve when they had been sent out for a battle and of course, by the resolve of Clarke herself when she had taken all their punishments for them. They did what they had to and they were doing it now. Their alliance with Ontari to take down Nia and those loyal to her, it was all just what was necessary to protect their family.

Mario's hiccupping alerted Kristin to the fact that he was getting drunk. She noticed that his hands were starting to shake. The hand holding the knife moved a bit, causing the tip of the blade to dance about the wood. Kristin frowned, reaching out and taking the knife from her brother's grasp. "Dude, put the knife down if you're going to continue drinking. I don't think Clarke, Casey, Paul or any of the others want to stich your fingers back on today. I'm going to put the knife back into your boot, okay? And you can keep drinking." Mario snorted, letting go of the knife, finally feeling dizzy from the alcohol. "Fine, be that way. Break a spaghetti eater's heart." Kristin rolled her eyes, snapping the blade back into its sheathe, putting it back into Mario's boot. "Spaghetti eater" was what the kids on the Ark had called Mario when they found out he was Italian, since he had been born next to the section of the Ark that was full of Protestant people, taught to hate those that were descended from people not of their religion. When they weren't telling Mario that he was going to a hell that Mario didn't even believe in, they resorted to insulting him about how he was a spaghetti eater, when they of course had never had any access to such foods.

Mario always found it funny that that was it, that was all they could have come up with. For Glenn of course, it had been way worse. He and his parents were Jewish. And for _some_ Christians who were jokes of Christians, being Jewish was even worse than being not religious at all. Glenn had openly told the others that he couldn't keep track of how many times he had been openly insulted by bullies on the Ark for being Jewish or how many times his "kippah" or as it was more well-known as, his "yarmulke," pronounced "ya-mi-ka" stolen or thrown around like a Frisbee.

When Glenn had been arrested for killing that guy over the food, trying to get some for all three him and his parents, the guards had beaten him and had set his yarmulke on fire. That was the only reason why he didn't have it anymore. He still had his gold Jewish star that hung around his neck that he'd always touch gently when he was nervous or was about to go into battle. Well, he didn't have his old, dark blue, yarn yarmulke. But he had a new one, thanks to Blair and Clarke. Two weeks after he had told them that story, which had been five days after Glenn, Cameron, Christopher, Beryl and Parker had been sent out on that massacre into the villages four months ago, Blair and Clarke had revealed what they had been working on with some needles and cleaned some wool from one of the sheep. They had been knitting up a new yarmulke for Glenn. They had asked Glenn what color he liked which had been random, or they had thought it was random, till the yarmulke that Clarke and Blair had made for Glenn had been revealed by the two of them. They had dyed it dark green, since that was the color that Glenn had said and they had asked Glenn to come with them to Blair's room. Glenn had found it weird, but had gone with them. Kristin and Hodge, who had been eating with him at the time went with him. They had given him the yarmulke, smiling as Glenn's jaw had dropped.

He had told them what yarmulkes looked like and Glenn said that Blair and Clarke had gotten the article made of yarn down perfectly. Mario wasn't there, but from what Kristin and Hodge had told him, he could just picture Glenn's bright green eyes lighting up and looking like he was about to burst out into tears when he had hugged both Blair and Clarke close. It seemed like a very trivial thing to anyone who didn't know Glenn and his background, and they probably would just see the yarmulke as a simple piece of clothing like a hat, nothing else. But for Glenn and his people it was a vital part of their beliefs. It was their culture's way of honoring their god.

When people criticized the headpiece that Glenn had on, Clarke had pointed out that there was no rule against him having the yarmulke. The queen nor anyone else had put up much more fuss. They didn't know what it meant and didn't bother trying to get Glenn not to where it. Of course now that Glenn was considered a decorated war hero, there was a lot more that had gone on than just tolerance of the headpiece. People were curious about why on a certain day three months ago Glenn had avoided doing work and had not eaten, or as he called it "fasting." They had been curious why on another day a month later, he would go through a few days mumbling chants, he claimed they were from his father's scripture and on the eighth day, he'd try harder than usual to recall a passage from the said scripture and would and sing in a language none of the Azgeda recognized. The other twenty-six had heard him use some Hebrew songs before. It wasn't a strange thing for them to hear from him at all. He had even told them once that there was a Jewish holiday called "Eighth day of Assembly" and the following holiday called "Day of celebrating the Torah." The latter was what presumably Glenn had been doing with his Hebrew singing. The rest of the twenty-six assumed.

Though Glenn had inspired a great deal of curiosity in many of the Azgeda, he had even sparked some curiosity in his own fellow Sky people, as many of them were not Jewish and so these traditions were quite strange for them too. But the curiosity that Glenn had sparked in the Azgeda had only led to those that were curious about the religion and Glenn had been happy to inform them of it.

But that was another story. Mario smirked at the number of admirers that Glenn had now. That was the other particular surprising thing, not just that some of them were now war heroes, and some of them had real relationships here, but also that along with Glenn's friends that were genuinely interested in his religion, a girl about Glenn's age, Rora, had taken a strong shine to him and from what the others could all tell, the two of them were quite happy together.

He burped, the heat of the alcohol burning up to the top of his mouth. He mumbled, smirking at Kristin, "Where are Clarke, Casey and Blair? They still owe me a snowball fight after they bailed on me because Casey wanted to suck face with Jesse, Clarke was making war plans with the queen and Ontari and Blair overslept." He let loose a drunken snort. "What a lightweight that girl is." "You're one to talk." Kristin threw back, grinning. "You've only taken a few sips and you've had it." "Oh shush." Mario slurred. He sniffed. "Want to get some sleep first?" Kristin offered, "Then you can go have a snowball fight with the others?" Mario paused and took a big yawn then nodded. "Yeah, that would probably be a good idea."

Kristin reached out and took the bottle from him, getting up and putting the bottle onto the mantle of the lit fireplace. She leaned down and helped Mario up, pulling him towards the bed, guiding him to lie down. Mario hiccupped again and lay down on his right side, Kristin lay down with him, kicking her shoes off and Mario followed suit. She snuggled into his back and she listened to him drift off to sleep. She wasn't worried about the fire. Between the fire and them was a stone floor and around the fireplace were several stone bricks stacked up and placed next to each other, acting as a barricade. The cold wasn't an issue either, even if the fire went out. Given their higher position now, each of their rooms were regularly filled in the ravines in the room with burning coals that would last longer than the fireplace. Each room in all of the buildings of this city was designed to have carved out ravines in the floor that surrounded the inhabitants, meant to be filled with burning coals or to have multiple stone pedestals grafted to the floor with metal bowls in it, to hold burning coals.

This room had the former. There were ravines all over the room, filled with bright red, burning coals that had been changed and lit regularly by servants.

Kristin smiled, slipping her dark fingers through Mario's black hair. Sleeping together and snuggling was nothing weird or new to any of them. After all the crap they had been through, the tortures, the threats the exhausting, exerting training and of course all the damn nightmares, they _needed_ to have company, sleeping next to each other. It had become normal for them completely. It sure as hell wasn't sexual. Their relationships, save for Casey and Jesse's relationship and Simone and Parker's relationship, were all familial. Were she and Mario to be together in any romantic way, it would be equal to actual incest and that was a disgusting idea for them both.

Her arm, still possessing the metal wristband around her wrist, that the Azgeda thankfully hadn't caught wind yet of why it was important or of what it meant, lay above Mario's head and she lay her own head down. Mario's own wristband was safe on his wrist. He had wisely not spoken a word of what it meant. Even though neither of them owed anything to the Ark, as Clarke had pointed out, just as she had decided that the twenty-six should decide their fate when she first saw them, the Ark people should decide what happened to them. Mario hadn't said a word to anyone as far as Kristin knew about what the wristbands did. Not even to his bed partners who had asked more than a few times before they had undressed.

They'd get some sleep, then go and see if Blair, Clarke and Casey could go out in the snow and play for a couple of hours.

 **Four Months ago:**

 _The Ice Queen walked slowly towards the healing hallway where she had seen Fynley and West leave, laughing together about how they were going to kick the other's "ass" as they went out, Nia assumed to the fighting ring. Once they were out, the queen, followed by Saktar and Mathias. She would need to give Wanheda an incentive not to retaliate. And she knew a good way to do that. Nia may have did what she wanted, but she was no fool. Wanheda was now her general. And generals needed incentives. Not just money, lodging, warm coal, flint and steel and food and all the ale anyone could ask for, and of course, the offerings of not just marriage to Nia's heir but any number of women that Klark would want Nia offered. Oddly, Klark never accepted that last particular offer. She wondered if it had to do with Heda and Onya. If Klark was still heartsick over them._

 _Nia had almost laughed, thinking of that. How sad, truly. But it did give the queen an idea. Klark was in pain over Heda and Onya's betrayal. They had left Klark and her people at the mountain. So why not offer revenge?_

 _Nia reached the door of the healing room, hearing movement in the room and recalled that the twenty-six young Sky People had stayed in the room to see to Klark's injuries. She opened up the door, seeing young Lyndin standing at attention in front of the door as soon as she walked in, the small boy's green eyes hardened until he saw his queen. His eyes became huge and he went down to his knee, head bent. "My kwin." "Lyndin," Nia acknowledged, turning her head to the group that was surrounding Klark. Kamirun brought a small object, which Nia realized after Kamirun removed a cloth from it was the bit used for warriors who needed to heal and didn't want to scream. Kamirun brought the bit to the shelves and put both the bit and the cloth down. She then noticed the queen and gasped, going down to her knee like Lyndin had. She bowed her head._

 _To the right of the kneeling Kamirun, Beril was holding a wooden cup, pouring what Nia assumed was water down Klark's throat, making sure the young woman had plenty of water. She smirked. It was good to see that Wanheda had such loyal warriors at her side. Loyalty meant usefulness in battle._

 _One by one, the other members of the twenty-six spotted their kwin and all kneeled down. The only ones that hadn't kneeled yet were Beril, Caysi and Pakah and that was because Beril hadn't yet seen her and Caysi and Pakah had seen her, but clearly were too afraid of releasing Klark as they must have feared that she would fall from her resting place. Nia observed Klark's injured state. The fur of Klark's jackets and shirts were covering her chest and shoulders but had remained peeled from her back as they had when her punishment had begun. Klark looked even more bedraggled than she had when she was being lashed against the pole if that was possible. Nia supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Klark had been severely wounded and tending to her wounds had obviously taken a lot out of the young woman. Her brow was drenched in sweat. Her light blonde hair hung like a pale waterfall off her shoulders as she heaved out a breath. Her exhausted blue eyes shot up to the queen._

 _When Klark began to move off the bench, Nia called out, "Do not get up, Klark. You have drained yourself enough. Pakah, Caysi, stay where you are. Beril, kneel. Beril nodded, shiny, black hair flipping and as soon as the wooden cup was finished of its water, Beril put the cup on the bench and kneeled down, head bowing._

 _Klark licked the water from her lips as she watched Nia walk further into the room. The Ice Queen looked at Klark, making sure her intense, pale eyes were holding the young woman's attention. "You did something very foolish by lying to me about Ivarb. Had you not done such a thing, we could have made an arrangement of sorts. But that's all passed now." Nia gave a smile that she knew Klark wasn't convinced by, though the younger woman couldn't show any reaction to her smile as the blonde was too weak right now. "Now," Nia continued as if it was the most obvious thing, "We move on. Klark, you were impressive today. You were lashed thirty times and didn't even scream. The generals are all very admiring of such a feat. Now your Seconds, Klark? They could be much more promising. Which is why after you are dressed and rejuvenated, with more energy, I will ask that you join me in the war room. I would like to discuss what could improve your Seconds' strength." She looked at Kamirun who was looking up at her with questions in her eyes._

 _Nia scowled, "If only one soldier, like Ivarb is enough to push you into submission, Kamirun, you are in great need of training and experience in battle." Nia turned to the other twenty-six present, uncaring for whatever Kamirun's reaction might be. "And all of you? I saw you at Klark's judgment. The whole lot of you looked like you were going to cry. Or were going to become furious and attack Atano. You need to control your emotions better. I thought after Fynly's whippings you'd learn to control yourselves, but alas, you are still weak."_

 _Hoge, Beril and Paul kept their heads down. Pakah and Caysi were tense. Klark, as Nia saw the young woman, through her pain, was starting to understand what her ruler was saying and her eyes went wide. "Your-your majesty," Klark began, voice a croak nearly, before Nia interrupted._

" _Do not speak when your kwin is talking, Wanheda." Nia said abruptly, "Your Seconds must start learning the ways of war. The Azgeda born? Like Lyndin, Layne, Aron, Micah?" Lyndin, Layne, Aron and Micah all somehow bowed their heads even lower in reaction. The kwin continued, "They are strong. Like stone. But that is because they've been trained since they were of only three, four and five years. But Farron? And those that fell from the sky?" Farrun gave a tiny whimper and Klark and the other Sky people tensed. "They are still so soft. If I were to call on them, if we truly needed it, they would be killed in only minutes. Consider this a good thing for them as well, won't you? The sooner they are trained, the less likely they will be to be killed in battle. They will stay alive longer by learning how to fight better. And for that? They need to see true battle. Even your strongest, Bayly? Fynly? Even they are lacking. I want to see stone. I want to see hardened warriors who will slaughter their enemies. Otherwise they will be of no use to me in future battles." Nia gave her threat then, smiling coldly down at Klark who watched with dread in her gaze. "They had better begin to show promise as my killers. Or their inability to be warriors will outweigh their usefulness in controlling you, Wanheda, and I will have to dispose of weaknesses as I often do."_

 _Klark stared, eyes huge now. She looked terrified now. She was now trying quite plainly to get up off the bench, but Pakah and Caysi stopped her. "Do-" Klark began before the queen cut her off. "Wanheda, I will not hear another word. Your Seconds are to be trained as soon as the sun rises two days hence." Nia looked at all of her subjects, seeing their fear and dread with every moment that flew by and could see how tense they were. She smirked and turned on her heel. "I will not hear another word from anyone further. Prepare for battle in two days." She walked quickly with Saktar and Mathias out the door, hearing nothing but satisfying silence afterwards._

 _Later that night, with dozens of profuse "I'm sorrys" thrown at them from Clarke as they got her to her bed chambers and laid her out on the bed, on her side, making sure her patched up wounds weren't touched, the twenty-six, trying to pretend they weren't terrified of what they had heard Nia demand, took turns bringing water to Clarke and guarding her room. Blair, Glenn, Christopher and Bailey had come in and found the scene. Blair had almost screamed when she had seen Clarke's back. The young, black-haired girl had refused to leave Clarke's side and waited only until morning to leave, all so she could bring loads of food for breakfast back to Clarke. Blair and most of the others didn't leave the room, one by one only leaving when they were sure that Clarke was getting the food and water she needed, the blonde unable to stop staring with tearful remorse at Parker, Glenn, Christopher, Beryl and Cameron until they were called away._

 _ **(Page Break)**_

 _ **Two days later:**_

 _ **Azgeda territory: Border of Finland**_

 _Cameron sat atop the grey horse, speckled with brown, who had been named by the horse breeder as Boral, partly looking skeptical and partly looking numb, seeing the horde of soldiers beginning to cross the thick layers of ice that led to the next village. This had to be their trial. It had been two days since Klark's whippings. The blonde general had been patched up and was waiting back in the wings with Mathias, Bailey, and the rest of her Seconds._

 _Cameron, Christopher, Beryl, Parker and Glenn had been sent to the furthest village to the South of Azgeda territory. There were two villages there that were causing trouble. From the information that the Ice Queen had fed them, the two villages, one led by a young man named Arteeng and the other village led by a man named Matan, were demanding special treatment amongst the villages. Whereas the queen expected all on her land to obey her, these villages, according to her were demanding extra food and wheat. While Clarke had made it clear that she didn't believe these claims and that even if she did, she wouldn't agree with the queen's decisions, she knew and all of them should know that they shouldn't make noise about it. They needed to do what they had been doing for the past six months. Keep their heads down and do what the queen ordered._

 _Even if that meant killing (hopefully) a few people and hopefully only a few people to appease the dangerous, powerful woman._

 _Cameron had almost gasped when she had heard that small declaration from Clarke. But she knew that it would be only a matter of time before that had happened. The Ice Queen was a warrior with legions of other warriors under her command. When people got out of line, she forced them back into it. And that meant often using her warriors to do it. And she and the other twenty-six? They were Nia's warriors. If Cameron wanted to continue living comfortably and not worry about her friends, she would have to obey Nia's commands._

 _They all would._

 _Parker sat atop her ebony horse, Karver, a big, husky, but fast mare that had fared fiercely in two other battles and had a couple of scars along her right side to prove it. She had been a gift to Parker temporarily from Saktar after Parker had nearly beaten him in a fight. He had laughed, though slightly in a forced way after he had beaten her. His body had been covered with bruises after a fight with her. Loaning Parker Karver was as close as he could come to being complimentary of the young girl. Parker was dressed from face to feet, in intimidating battle armor. Chest plates, leg braces, arm braces and a mask covering her lower jaw of wood, bone, and old metal crafted together made up her armor. The rest of Parker's face was covered in white paint. All of them were covered in paint, on their faces at least. Their bodies were covered in the same materials as Parker._

 _They had all been given weapons as soon as they had agreed to be Nia's warriors six months ago and had been made Clarke's Seconds. Parker had two steel swords strapped to her back in a crisscross style, their hilts sticking out from behind her slim shoulders. Parker's dark hair was in a long ponytail, her gloved hands gripping the black, leather reins, keeping Karver from wandering._

 _Cameron herself had three knew weapons for this occasion. Two short swords, smaller than Finley's own strapped to her legs, one on each leg, and a long sword strapped to her back with a wickedly curved blade, the hilt going past her right shoulder. Glenn, as everyone had learned, had very good aim and accuracy. As a result, after the many archery sessions where he had succeeded in hitting every single mark where a great deal of the other Azgeda-even grown men and women had failed, Glenn had been gifted with two long bows, one crafted of flexible metal, with bone as the "grip," and one crafted from some of the strongest trees, and given a hefty, leather quiver, stuffed with razor sharp arrows._

 _There was one bow strapped to each side of the horse Glenn sat on. Glenn's horse was a slim, but strong horse named Thyrin with pale gold, sleek fur. Strapped to Glenn's person, besides his quiver of arrows, was two long, curved daggers tied to the right side of his belt, and two short swords tied to the left side of his belt. Glenn was less heavily armored than Parker, Beryl, Cameron and Christopher was. As Aron and Lane had pointed out, Parker, Beryl, Cameron and Christopher were more likely to run right into battle and confront the enemy face to face and therefore would need more armor. Glenn, however, was likely going to shoot from a distance. So he was less likely to be put in direct danger. That hadn't been how Aron and Lane had put it, but Clarke had summed it up for them. Despite his prowess with the bows and arrows, Cameron could see his fear. His left hand, with the silver wristband around his wrist had reached up and he was fiddling with something around his neck. Cameron knew it was his Jewish star. Despite the grim mask covering the lower part of his face, she could see through the small openings in the mask that his lips were moving. He was giving a quiet_ _prayer. Whether it was to his parents, his god or his ancestors or two of those or all three, Cameron didn't know. It told Cameron more and more how Glenn valued life and this was going to be horrendous for him._

 _Clarke would be here with the five of them now, were it not for Nia's orders. Clarke was to stay with the queen and her warriors and the other twenty-six and see how Parker, Beryl, Christopher, Glenn and Cameron fared against these armies with their own group of soldiers. It was time to see how the five of them were in a true battle._

 _She looked down at the ground, guilt thrusting into her. This was all her fault. If Clarke just hadn't lied for her, none of this would have happened. She shouldn't have yelled at Ivarb. She shouldn't have confronted him. Clarke wouldn't have had to kill him if she hadn't. They were in this position because of her. Clarke said it wasn't her fault and told her to keep telling herself that, but it sure felt like it was her fault._

 _Heavy, cold fear weighed on her, but Cameron knew they had no choice. She watched the line of soldiers that supposedly would be trustworthy with their lives in battle and gripped Boral's reins painfully hard. They had to do this. If only for Clarke's sake. She had sacrificed everything for them. It was time to start giving back. Even if it wasn't what Clarke wanted or if they were playing right into the Ice Queen's hands and being her little minions, for Clarke's sake, if only for her not to suffer more, she could do this. They all could. She glanced over at Parker who was staring ahead at the two villages that they were supposed to "investigate" and saw the same determination. Parker hated this as much as she did, but understood that they had to do this. Aside from his fiddling with his star and his mumblings of prayers, Glenn was unreadable as he usually was under these circumstances. And Cameron could just see Beryl and Christopher's resolve, brittle as it might have been, as they also watched the villages._

 _Cameron knew that Beryl would do this. Maybe only out of protectiveness for Clarke or because she was scared of the Ice Queen. But she could do it. Cameron sighed, turning to the villages. She understood now that she was going to do something awful to survive. With that, feeling her heart grow heavy, she snapped her reins forward and gently kicked Boral's sides and started off towards her army and the villages that were most likely doomed._

 **Present day**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

A ragged groan woke her up and Kristin rubbed the tiredness from her eyes with an aching arm that hand been stretched out over her and Mario's heads on the mattress and pillow. She opened her eyes, pulling her hand away, seeing the groggy and sniffling boy sitting up next to her, his black hair tousled.

He yawned, turning to her a tired look in his green eyes. "Hey." He mumbled, "How long were we asleep?" Kristin shrugged. "Don't know." She rolled slightly and looked at the fireplace, not hearing the crackling anymore. The fire was almost out. What little remained licked at the depleting coals and bits of wood. The hay naturally was completely gone. "Well, however long we were out," Kristin grumbled, knowing since they were both still alive or weren't trembling with iciness that all the coals were still lit around the room in the ravines, "the fire in the fireplace is gone. Almost gone, anyway." She peered out of the many layered glass window, seeing the bright light still flooding in. "Well, we couldn't have slept long. It's still bright outside. Come on, let's go. I think we should go find the others and see if we can have that snowball fight now." Mario grinned at that and Kristin tangled her fingers through her hair again, finding all of it loose of the black tether that she had used to tie her hair back in a ponytail. She flopped her hands around on the bed for the tie and eventually found it on the floor. She grabbed it and pulled it up, tying her hair back again. Mario hopped off the end of the bed and went to where his and Kristin's shoes and weapons were scattered.

Kristin's battleax, long sword and belt of daggers, Mario's own twin swords and three small hatchets, plus Mario's boots and Kristin's boots were next to his only sock covered feet, the sharp blades of his hatchet just inches from his toes. He casually picked up his boots and put them on one by one, ankle scraping against the leather sheathe of his knife that was tucked away in the right-footed boot. He slammed both his feet down to the floor, moving away from the bed and leaning down for his weapons. One of his swords and two of his hatchets. Kristin got off the bed too, putting her boots on. She snatched up her sword and belt of daggers, securing them both. She'd leave her ax. It wasn't that they'd be needing any of their weapons immediately, it was just as Seconds, not to mention people with higher positions of authority than before could not be seen walking around outside of the security of their rooms without so much as one weapon on them.

It was considered unprofessional (the Azgeda of course did not use that word, but that was the gist of it), but what was more important, in an environment like this, it wasn't just considered unprofessional, it was considered weak and dangerous. The two trainees turned trainers grabbed their heavy fur coats made from wool, bear and elk fur layered over each other, and Kristin checked the fireplace, grabbing the poker and prodding the last bit of the pile where the tiny bits of fire still lingered. She could see it start to die out now. She smiled, putting the poker away and walked back to the door. The candles in their metal slots affixed to the sides of the door had barely shrunk as time had gone on.

Mario took note of the candles' height, realizing only one candle mark had passed. He chuckled. "Dude, we were just out for an hour. Don't worry about it." He stretched his neck up and blew out one of the candles. Kristin did the same to the other. They had learned how to read time through the reducing of a candle's height. It was surprisingly easy, even if there wasn't actually any "mark" on the candle to speak of. You just had to remember how tall the candle originally was and sum up its present height. They both checked the area around the coals, knowing that the coals would eventually extinguish on their own and wouldn't cause harm to the room as the bed and the weapons were feet and feet away from the ravines and from what they could see, the coals were burning hot. They'd need to replace the coals in a couple of hours. The room would remain warm for another after the coals went out completely, but they'd need to before Mario went to bed, unless he wanted to freeze to death. They picked up the buckets full of water from the floor and splashed the water on the coals bit by bit. The coals began to fizz out of heat. The water would be gotten rid of tonight with the sand the servants would dump into the channels around the room. Then all the coals would be replaced.

The two headed out the door, slamming it shut and Mario locked up.

" **Ain" is "Yes" in Azgedasleng**

 **Pakah: Parker**

 **Lyndin: Linden**

 **Layne: Lane**

 **Kamirun: Cameron**

 **Beril: Beryl**

 **Caysi: Casey**

 **Fynly: Finley**

 **Bayly: Bailey**

 **I will say this, anyone who even tries to make any anti-semetic remarks when it comes to Glenn and his beliefs, or any whining about how it's "discrimination towards Christians" (there's no such thing as that) it won't end well for you. I will tell you exactly what I think of you in the next chapter and people like you if you do that. I will name you and call you out in an author's note next chapter if you do it. Respect other peoples' religions and cultures the way you'd want your own to be respected.**


	7. The making of war heroes

**Trigger warnings for heavy violence and decapitations**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 7: The making of war heroes**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

A rolled up snowball went flying into her face, launched by a grinning Blair, who was trying to hold back her cackles of laughter. Clarke narrowed her gaze at the dark-haired girl. Blair's excitement hitched and she giggled, "Oh no, oh no." She tried to run as Clarke gathered up two large pieces of snow and chucked them at Blair. Blair was out of range when both snow pieces landed. Another snowball careened through the air, thrown by Casey, who was being followed by a running Farron, who was holding up a pile of well packed snowballs in his arms, some of them falling out of his arms as he ran, a big grin on his face at Casey's determination to hit someone, anyone with a snowball. It didn't matter to her really, who it was.

"Crap," Clarke said, smirking at Casey and Farron, "Here come the reinforcements." Casey started racing up the hill grabbing two snowballs. Clarke then noticed two more figures approaching and smirked down in amusement at Casey. Casey was going to get a blitz attack. She looked back at where the two figures were approaching, having recognized them. Kristin and Mario. It had sort of become the rule in their snowball fights that if someone on one team was outnumbered, then anyone who joined the fight would need to join the side that had the lesser people. So Mario and Kristin were _her_ reinforcements.

She watched Casey nearly get to the top of the dune of snow and she herself backed away, checking over her shoulder at where Blair was and saw that the black-haired girl was too far to throw a snowball and turned back to the approaching two teenagers, dodging out of the way of both snowballs that Casey threw at her.

She hopped out of the way when Casey grabbed two more snowballs and grinned wider when Mario and Kristin started coming up into sight, both of them packing together snow to form spheres. "You're finished, Wanheda." Casey said in a dramatic voice. "If I'm finished," Clarke threw back, voice just as dramatic, you're going down with me, Bear Slayer." Casey smirked at the name she had been given for her many successful bear hunts and got ready to chuck more snowballs at Clarke, when she was smacked in the back and the back of her head by two icy projectiles. She stiffened and glowered, turning to one laughing Mario and a laughing Kristin. Farron was trying to hide his own chuckles, cheeks slightly red.

Casey rolled her eyes. This was hell of a lot different from how their lives had been a few months ago. But what she wouldn't give for loads of more snowballs at the ready.

 **Azgeda territory: border of Finland:**

 **Four Months ago**

 _At the edge of where the two villages stood, the five horses moved closer, their riders focused on their targets. Parker Reed knew that this was wrong. Most definitely wrong. She was damn sure that sacking a couple of villages just for not showing enough respect to a ruler was a crime of some kind, but Parker knew she and the other four didn't have much of a choice. She could feel hot, tight anger in her chest and throat. She wanted to blame everyone. Anyone. The queen. Ontari. The generals. Even Clarke. But Parker knew she couldn't blame Clarke. She could mentally blame everyone else, but she sure as hell couldn't blame Clarke. Especially after what she had seen Clarke do for Cameron._

 _Clarke had sacrificed everything. She had been protecting all of them for two months. Parker wanted to be angry at Clarke. She was angry at everything, but unfortunately, she knew that she couldn't be angry at Clarke. Not after everything. It wasn't Clarke's fault that she and the others had landed in Azgeda. It wasn't Clarke's fault that the queen was a piece of shit that liked torturing and killing her subjects. It wasn't Clarke's fault that they weren't ruthless enough in Nia's eyes and the woman had decided to send the five of them out on a mass murder mission. Parker glared coldly at the village, feeling the white paint grip the skin of her face. These villages were going to be wiped out and it was the queen's fault. And if they tried to go against the queen's orders? They'd likely be killed for treason. And if that wasn't bad enough? The other twenty-six likely would be killed horribly too. Parker would be lucky if she was killed first so that she didn't have to witness her friends being butchered._

 _Parker gripped the reins and snapped at them, making Karver go to the very first stone step leading to the iron fence surrounding the first village. At least two hundred soldiers, all dressed in white fur and their faces covered in white paint, armed with swords, bows and arrows lumbered forward, one of them holding a lit torch. Parker had a terrible feeling about what was going to be done with that torch. The order had been to put these people in their place. And how was that going to be done? She had heard plenty of stories from Clarke, Aron, Micah, Lane, Linden and Farron. There were fires that had been used in the past to destroy villages by the Azgeda people when the queen had not been properly obeyed._

 _Parker could almost feel the inevitability of what was going to happen. She glanced to the right, seeing Glenn, Cameron, Christopher and Beryl riding close to each other. As if they knew that this was something they had to do as well, unless they wished for death to come for them sooner than later. As if they knew that an ax was being held above all their heads and would come swinging down if they did anything against the orders thrown at them._

 _As if they were afraid of being away from each other._

 _Parker ground her teeth together. Whether she liked it or not, these four, the other twenty-six, Clarke, the Azgeda kids that Clarke was training, they were all she had. In this shit-hole of a world, they were all she had. And she had to protect that. If that meant serving a complete monster like the queen, then they'd have to do it._

 _They closed in on the villages. Parker noticed Glenn beginning to pull off one of his bows, the wooden one and readied it, pulling out one of his arrows by its dark brown, feathered end. Glenn set the arrow, pulling the string a bit as the horse walked. Parker felt her heart clench. Were they actually going to start killing people? She had killed before. Just not human beings. She had fought the others and other Azgeda warriors and had properly gotten the shit beaten out of her. And she had hunted and killed for food along with other hunting parties. But she had never killed another human being before. And here they were, being cast into battle, being expected to kill human beings as if it was easy? What was wrong with that queen?_

 _Parker didn't have time to think more on it, because a tremor of a horn's blow blasted through the valley, making all of their horses swing their heads up and down, hooves smacking against the ground, indicating that they were ready to charge. Parker shot her head up. She thought that maybe the horn had been blown by one of the generals at the head of their army, but from the commotion being caused by the general at the front, Salek, she realized it wasn't. And it was only further confirmed a moment later when to Parker's horror, a line of armed villagers stood at the bottom of the hill, at the cusp of the valley. It would have been comical, had it not been so blatantly obvious that these villagers meant business. The villagers, from the edge of the shore where the ocean ended, to the end of the other village's territory, encompassing a huge range of the area, were snarling villagers, men, women, even some children, armed with knives and yes, expected farmer and villager tools in front of them, ready to charge at the oncoming invaders. Parker groaned behind her mask. This was just fantastic. They had loads of pissed of villagers ready to kill them._

 _And she, Glenn, Christopher, Cameron and Beryl didn't even want to attack! They were just trying not to piss off the wrong person and end up maimed, tortured, possibly raped and dead as a result. Parker wanted to scream that truth at the villagers, scream it till her lungs gave out. But she knew it wouldn't make a difference. These villagers were angry, as was she._

 _She didn't want to hurt them, but damn it, didn't they know that they didn't have a choice? Hell, Parker would be surprised if any of these soldiers had a choice. For all she knew, maybe all of them had an ax above their heads. She had seen what happened to soldiers who disobeyed Queen Nia. One soldier she and the others had seen who had gone against the queen, not wanting to kill a young boy who had stolen food and the queen claimed that he was taking more than his share, had ended up with his bones pulled out, his skin cut off and his head removed. The boy had been killed right in front of the soldier, just so that the man, Gaffo, would know that everything he did was futile._

 _Every last one of them was either a willing, bloodthirsty servant to the Azgeda, or a slave with an ax or some torture instrument held above their heads or the head of a loved one, forcing them into the service of the Azgeda. Parker's teeth ground together. Didn't the villagers all know this? They must have known what the Az kwin was capable of. Why were they blaming all of them? Somehow, Parker wasn't sure how she hadn't been aware of it till just now, but somehow, her right hand had traveled to the hilt of her sword at the left side of her belt, her hand gripping the hilt hard in a brutal, powerful clasp. Why didn't the villagers just bow? Just obey? Sure, the real person responsible was the queen. But the villagers didn't have to mean it if they were to say that they would obey the queen's every command. Hell knew that Parker didn't mean it and she was sure the others didn't. So why couldn't the villagers just make that effort? Even if it was a lie? Why couldn't they spare themselves and the rest of the Azgeda army, including the twenty-six of them and Clarke the pain and grief?_

 _Dammit, the villagers were just making more trouble for themselves and everyone else. Parker fumed. She had paid plenty of attention in history classes back on the Ark, even if she had found the classes totally boring. She knew that oppressed people rarely, if ever were to blame for their own suffering. It would be like spitting in the faces of all those that had suffered in the past at the hands of corrupt rulers. But really, just for the sake of being smart and staying safe, couldn't these damn villagers just keep their heads down, pretend they were complying and shut up? It was going to get loads of people killed if they didn't._

 _The more Parker thought about it that way, the angrier she got. Her hand almost became one with the sword's hilt. The more and more she thought of it, the more thought she put into why the villagers all should have just pretended that they were going along with the queen's orders, the more fiery rage spilled into her guts. Gods damn it. Didn't they understand that they were getting themselves killed? Many of them children?_

 _Before Parker could stop herself, she pulled out her sword, the long, curved, powerful, steel blade gleaming in the sunlight. If only to get them back home and back to Clarke and the others sooner, Parker was going to kill as many of these fucking villagers as she could get her sword near. It seemed Parker wasn't the only one that felt some bloodlust. A man, covered in what Parker figured was the laughable version of armor-a bunch of pieces of bark covering his wide chest and back and legs and arms, stepped up to the front of the so-called army of villagers and called out the Azgedasleng word that Parker knew meant "attack." "Kestangi!" The villager roared, bringing on a chorus of other roars from the villagers, the sea of armed citizens charging forward, brandishing their hoes, rakes, spears, pitchforks-yes, pitchforks and other sharp items Parker still couldn't identify even after months of patrolling areas with Azgeda farmers._

 _The horde of villagers went forward in a sea of screaming and swinging, sharp, likely dangerous objects, despite their borderline comical appearances and the highest of the generals at the head of Parker and the other four's army, Lackart threw his head back and howled the exact same command for all to hear, "Kestangi!" There was a series of screams and howls released by all the soldiers around Parker and the others. Parker found her own scream being released from her burning throat. She didn't care what the reason was. She wanted these villagers' blood. She wanted as many of them dead as possible._

 _She kicked her horse's sides and followed the many horse-riding warriors down the valley towards the villages, the lowering sun, making the generals around them light more torches._

 _They careened down the hill, horses' hooves pounding the ground, sounding not that different from the rampant beatings against a deep, bellowing drum. Beneath Parker, Karver let loose a series of neighs and Parker smirked beneath her brown and grey, metal and rubber meshed mask crafted to look like a grinning skull's face. It sounded like Karver was ready for battle too. Movement to the right of her caught Parker's eye and she turned to see Glenn taking his bow off of his horse's side and pulling out an arrow, the hand that held the bow was gripping the reins of his horse and he rested the arrow against the bow, pulling the arrow and its tight string back, aiming the bow at the mass of villagers running upwards. He let loose the first arrow as soon as the soldiers ran, dipping down, getting out of Glenn's way. The arrow soared, finally landing, impaling into the nearest villager's chest._

 _It was the chest of a young woman snarling, bearing a pitchfork. The bolt of metal and wood pierced into her chest, making blood spurt out of the wound and her face contorted in pain as she collapsed to the ground. The young woman next to her, who Parker assumed was her sister or something, screamed in horror, face snarling the same as the other, holding up her wooden spear and charging. Another Azgeda soldier leaned down and swiped his sword out, slicing the woman's head off._

 _Parker gasped when she saw the woman's head go flying, blood bursting out of the ripped open neck._

 _It was then they all flew into battle._

 **(Page break)**

 **Azgeda Territory: Norway:**

 _Klark was watching Fynly and West's fight with forced interest. Ontari could tell that it was forced. Klark had a smile on her face as Fynly pivoted and dodged West's movements, but Ontari could understand Klark enough to recognize when something was wrong. At least this much she understood. Five of the young warriors that Klark had made sure to protect, Pakah, Beril, Kamirun, Kristofah and Glen were off proving themselves in battle against two rebellious villages and Klark was just expected to remain here and heal up from her lashings and pretend that she wasn't bothered by five of her people who were still training, to be off, risking their lives._

 _Ontari slanted her eyes to the side at her adoptive mother. The Az kwin. She loved her mother. As much as someone like her was capable of, she loved her. But she knew very well what Nia expected of Klark. Constant loyalty. No questions. Ontari saw the benefit in that. But her one-day bride was in pain over it. Ontari was a warrior first before anything else, but she knew that to form a strong leadership, one needed to make compromises. And to be worthy of a strong life mate, one needed to prove oneself to worthy. Ontari could be prideful sometimes, if not always, but she knew that she had not done an impressive job of proving herself worthy of Klark. She had said the words, promising that she would protect the twenty-six "delinquents" that Klark had sworn as well to protect. But words meant nothing. It was deeds, not words that proved one worthy of another's attentions._

 _If she truly wanted to prove herself in Klark's eyes, she needed to act. Not speak. All she had been doing had been following in her and Roan's mother's footsteps. Her brother had been the dutiful son and she had seen what had happened. He had been banished from his own people. He was too weak. She needed to prove that she was strong enough to protect Klark and the Sky People that Klark had more or less "adopted," even if that meant standing against her own kwin and mother._

 _As Fynly tossed West over her shoulder and West went flying into the snow, there were cackles heard from the watching Azgeda warriors, including from Flynt who was watching, giving a huge, toothy grin, arms crossed over his broad chest. Klark tried not to laugh, but couldn't help the sound that left her throat, wincing as the vibrations likely hurt her back. Ontari lost her smirk. Since West had landed in soft snow, there was no injury to speak of that would result in the girl's defeat at Fynly's hands. But laughing hurt Klark. Ontari frowned, observing the other young woman more._

 _Ontari had not had a terrible life. At least not one that wasn't natural of an Azgeda Nightblood. As a Nightblood, she had had high potential of being taken from her family as soon as her blood was discovered. Under normal circumstances, she would have been taken by guards of Polis, once reports eventually reached the previous Heda and brought to Polis tower to train. And then forced to fight what were once her friends to the death for the right to be the unfeeling Heda. But there was nothing normal about her life. At least not when compared to other Nightbloods. Queen Nia, after discovering that Ontari was a nightblood, had killed off any that knew about it. She then gave a dozen sacks of gold to Ontari's mother and father, promised them and Ontari, comfortable, luxurious lives if they kept silent about their daughter's blood. If they didn't? Well, that would be another story, wouldn't it?_

 _It likely would have ended with Ontari's mother, Uda and her father, Maltol being put to death for their disobedience. And both of them had to have known that. But there was so much more to gain by complying with their queen's wishes. They knew what the other possibility would bring. Should Ontari be found out by people of Polis, she would be taken from her family anyway, and she would be forced to kill her fellow nightbloods in the conclave. She would be forced to kill people she knew and had made friends with. For them, perhaps relinquishing their daughter to the queen had been a mercy. Saving their daughter ultimately. And so they gave their frightened and confused daughter of only seven to the queen and the queen had taken Ontari in, and made her an heir to the throne, already aware of her only child, Roan's weaknesses and not in any way impressed by what little her son had to offer. Ontari's mother and father had held their end of the deal. Uda and Maltol had remained silent for years and years. And after the conclave had been won by the Trikru girl, then turned into a Heda, Leksa, and the warrior had ascended to the throne, the queen was all the more pleased that she had kept Ontari a secret._

 _Ontari was her weapon. And now, so was Klark._

 _Ontari watched the genuine amusement begin to leave Klark's face as West got out of the snow and resumed fighting with Fynly._

 _Today was a surprisingly mildly freezing day. It was one of those days where one might forget to wear seven layers of clothing. Might only put on three or four. The sun was shining down from a cloudless, blue sky and the sun's light was reflected from stainless, white snow. The arena where Fynly and West were sparring had once had a thin layer of ice covering it. Thanks to guards cracking away at the ice with pick axes, it was now uncovered stone. It would freeze over again in about four hours or so. But for now, the arena could be used till their desires were fulfilled._

 _Ontari had been watching Klark since those five members of the twenty-six prisoners had been sent out on their trial mission, proving their worth in combat. Klark was a sacrificing person. Ontari had come to understand that immediately. Klark would do anything for the people she loved. For her people. If the Azgeda eventually became Klark's people, then she would sacrifice everything to protect them too. Ontari withheld a sigh as she glanced at her adopted and much harsher and more brutal mother, Nia. Klark, from what Ontari had realized, was a woman that did not deserve to be treated the way she had in the past two months. From the things she had learned about the Trikru and the 100 previous Skaikru prisoners that had landed in the Trikru territory, they hadn't valued Klark as she had deserved to be valued. How did a foolish choice like that even happen by a group of people? You had a gift who would do anything to keep you safe, and you waste it and say that the person doing all of it wasn't doing enough?_

 _From the time Ontari had spent around Klark and observing the Sky girl, she had come to be softened as much as she could be when faced with such a giving and sacrificing person, despite the betrayal Klark had suffered. It seemed almost as if it had been the Skaikru themselves, not the destruction of the Mountain Men that had driven Klark into Azgeda hands. Ontari smirked. Well, it didn't matter much now did it? Now, Klark was here. Here, Klark would one day be a queen. Feared, respected. Loved. The people would immediately obey her as they would Ontari one day. Klark may not have wished for the Ice Queen's throne, but she would have it eventually. Ontari rolled over everything she had learned about Klark's relationship with Onya and Heda. From what she had heard thanks to all the spies that had informed her mother and ruler of the relationship, it had sounded like a truly loving relationship. Klark had adored those women. And Ontari saw what Onya and Heda did with that love. They had destroyed it. They had taken a blessing and had shattered it without thought._

 _Well, that was going to change now. Onya and Heda might not have been willing to protect Klark's people, but Ontari would. When she and Klark's union ceremony was conducted and they would be bound together, she would then, in the eyes of the law be expected to protect the Skaikru. But Ontari would do more than that. She would protect Klark's people even before the union ceremony. Klark's people, no matter who they were; the twenty-six that the Azgeda had possession of, the Azgeda themselves, or the 100 Skaikru Klark had come down with, Ontari would protect them with all her strength and skill. Even if they were unworthy of Klark, Ontari would protect them because it meant something to the Sky princess. If someone wanted to harm any of Klark's people, they would have to get through Ontari first._

 _When West was finally too bruised up to try to lift herself up off the flat, stone platform, wincing, Fynly helped lift the other up, West's arm going over the other's shoulder. Fynly looked at the queen, bowing her head. "Your majesty," Fynly addressed Nia, "May I get leave to bring West to the healing rooms?" Nia waved her hand, signaling that the young women could go. As soon as Fynly voiced her thanks and walked off with West next to her, Klark began to lift herself up off the bench. Nia turned to the blonde young woman, and Ontari took note of how her mother was eyeing Klark's movements. Whether it was to see if Klark was in pain still after her lashings or if Klark was showing any hesitation at all over agreeing to allow those five Skaikru children out on the army mission, Ontari couldn't tell._

 _She got her answer a moment later when she heard her mother speak to Klark, "Worried for Pakah, Kamirun, Glen, Kristofa and Beril?" Klark shot her head up and her dim, blue eyes became alarmed then. She shook her head and said in a voice that Ontari was sure was forced to be calm, "No, my kwin. I know that all five of them will be safe. You have had the best warriors accompany them. And they have learned their lessons well. I have nothing but faith in their eventual accomplishments."_

 _Ontari heard the queen purr, amused and knew that her mother had detected the lie in Klark's voice and words. "I'm certain you are right, Wanheda. I have great expectations in your lessons provided for them. Now," Nia turned to Ontari and smirked, and Ontari understood the meaning of her mother's look immediately, "I shall give you leave now, Klark. Do as you wish for the rest of the day."_

 _Klark nodded, giving a small kneel before getting up, "My kwin."_

 _Ontari did the same gesture as Klark did and once Nia turned on her heel and left the courtyard, walking back to the fortress that was her, Ontari and now Klark and the twenty-six's home, with dozens of muscled, armed guards following behind her, Ontari got up and faced Klark, walking carefully to the other young woman._

" _Klark," Ontari began, bowing her head respectfully. "May I speak with you?"_

 _Klark couldn't hold back her curiosity and her eyebrows lifted, but she nodded. "Ain, of course, Ontari. You are the next in line to the throne. You may do whatever you want, as is your right." Ontari tried not to glare. She didn't want to make Klark think she had done something wrong. She didn't want Klark to be so obedient. She knew the only reason Klark was being as compliant as she was with anything that was happening here was because her mother had the twenty-six at her mercy. Before Klark had learned of the twenty-six's existence, she had been more than willing to welcome her death, assuming that the kwin would kill her to "take Wanheda's power" and go against Heda._

 _Klark wouldn't be nearly this obedient if not for the twenty-six's lives being used against her so thoroughly._

" _I may be the next in line," Ontari said calmly, hiding her anger over what her mother had done to this great warrior, making her a servant all but in name. "But so are you. You will be ascending to the throne too one day. At my side. So while I may have authority over all of the Azgeda and over the twenty-six Skaikru in our grasp, but you will one day be my queen. My wife." Ontari looked at Klark, really looked at her, wanting to see how Klark felt about the arrangement. Klark gave nothing away and Ontari tried not to growl. She wanted to know what was going on in Klark's head. Even if it was dread or unhappiness that Klark was feeling as a result of this arrangement, she wanted to know so she could make the situation more bearable._

 _But Ontari continued, deciding to dig further eventually, but now wasn't the time. "And so you have the right to refuse me when I wish to speak with you. And when you are queen," She added, unable to help but want to prove that Klark would have a say in at least some of what was happening, hoping to please the other young woman in some way, "You will have more than just the authority to refuse me. You will have the authority to command all of the armies of the Azgeda."_

 _Klark blinked, startled at those words and Ontari wondered if her mother had neglected to tell Klark that, hoping to make Wanheda feel more helpless. It wasn't beyond at all what the Az Kwin would do at all. If anything, it sounded exactly like something her adoptive mother would do. All to secure her power. "Well," Ontari continued, hoping this information would appease the light-haired young woman, "You could do more than just reject my offer of words, is all I'm saying. But I have only asked for your attention to request that I speak with you later. Under a more private setting." When Klark tensed, Ontari realized how her request sounded and she felt like she wanted to smack her head against a stone wall. Of course, if she and Klark were eventually to be unioned, Klark would assume that Ontari meant that._

 _She said in a hurried voice, more than sure her dark green eyes were more panicked than they had been in a long time. "No, no, Klark, I don't mean like that. I just would like to speak with you. That's all."_

 _Klark eyed Ontari suspiciously and Ontari almost grinned at the other's defiance and the telltale sign that she wanted to defend herself when she noticed Klark's right hand twitching, as if ready to reach for the hilt of her knife. The same knife she had used to dispatch Ivarb. Ontari had been quietly gleeful when she had learned that Klark had used her wedding gift to kill Ivarb. It was bathed in Klark's enemy's blood. Almost as if making the gift more pure in Ontari's intentions._

 _Ontari bowed her head slightly, hoping Klark understood that her one-day wife respected her greatly and would never cross a boundary that Klark had established. "I need you to know that I would never do anything without your permission. I will only do what you ask. I simply wish to speak with you privately. That is all. I swear it." She waited for a response and glanced up, seeing Klark look at her, almost confused. Ontari smiled. "You can always be armed when I come to you. If that would make you feel more comfortable."_

 _Klark almost seemed surprised by Ontari's words and the black-haired Azgeda heir smiled. "I know you are uncertain of me right now, but the only truly private place where we can talk is one of our bed chambers. Is that agreeable to you? I would like to speak to you there. I will see you at your room in one mark of the candles. But only if that's what you wish to do. And as I said, you can be armed. I won't be offended." Ontari gave another little head bow and said in a gentle voice, "Wanheda" and turned around, walking towards the fortress, letting Klark think about what she had offered._

 _Given what Klark did know about her was that she was the queen's weapon and had tortured multiple people, had even seen her DO it a few times, she knew that Klark had every right to be suspicious of her. But she wanted to show that there was more to her than that._

 **(Page break)**

 _The recovering Finley, rubbing at her bruises and West were planning out the eventual gruesome death of Atano the torturer. His death would be slow and painful. They knew how they wanted it to be. They wanted it to look like some random thugs had attacked Atano. And that was in no way rare in Azgeda. Even though Nia had ordered the constant fighting in the ring and in the squares for the entertainment of the people, the people being herself, it also helped a great deal of people with grudges work out their anger. That was till it came boiling up once more._

 _So the lack of thugs in Azgeda was not a problem. What would be a problem would be their weapons. Their weapons, though not exclusive to them, as other Azgeda warriors had them, the blades of Finley's short sword and West's long daggers, the blades twisted like snake bodies were still unique. They'd need other weapons that couldn't be traced back to them. West had pointed out that there was the barracks, which accommodated all of the Azgeda soldiers, regardless of class or rank, and the weapons there were available to all. Including to the two of them. West suggested weapons the two of them were not familiar with, to lesson suspicion as well as putting more time between Clarke's punishment and when they eventually murdered Atano in retribution, so as not to make inspecting eyes automatically draw to them._

 _Finley looked at West, lifting her red eyebrows. "Spears?" She suggested, thinking off the top of her head what weapons besides swords were the most common to have hanging along the weaponry barracks. "Good idea." West said, keeping her voice soft, remembering that people could be listening at any turn and made sure that the fire in front of them in the fireplace crackled as she prodded at it with a steel poker. "Remember, we have to wait a while." Finley nodded, frowning. She accepted that because that was the obvious thing about this. They had to put distance between the time Atano had angered them, to when they eventually killed him. But every time she had seen the man, when he was bowing to the queen, when he was in the hall, eating, when he was cleaning his torture devices, even when he had bowed to Clarke, asking for "Wanheda's forgiveness," which of course, Clarke had given, Finley's rage almost became a living, sentient thing and felt like it was going to rip out of the shell of her body and attack to infuriating man._

 _When Atano had had the audacity to bow to Clarke, asking for her forgiveness, Finley had nearly lunged at him, but thankfully, West had grabbed her, keeping her back, reminding her that Clarke would just suffer more if any of them were harmed, which they would be if they outright attacked Atano in the open for everyone to see. But Finley knew that they had to wait. They had to wait. "Still sucks." Finley grumbled. West nodded, and put the poker down on the stone floor, grabbing the hacked off stuck hunk of bear meat that Kristin, Paul, Lane and some other Azgeda had brought back from their hunt, taking the metal end and hefting the piece up off from the metal stands where the pole with the meat on it had been placed and brought it to the fire, able to get their without stumbling, despite the meat's size and weight. David, Jesse and an Azgeda man, Saktar's brother were out on another hunt. They still hadn't returned. Finley got up and tried to help but West shooed her away as she kneeled down and placed the metal pole onto the new metal pedestals. These two new pedestals were just a few inches from the fireplace. Once the metal pole and the meat were balanced on the pedestals, West grabbed the poker and gestured for Finley to grab the other poker from the stand up against the left wall. Finely nodded and grabbed it, the two young girls pushing the sharp ends of the pokers against the bottom of the pedestals, slowly sliding the pedestals and the pole and the meat into the fireplace, the meat now hanging above the fire._

 _West noticed Finley looking at the meat hungrily and warned her, "Don't yet. It's raw, Finley. It's dangerous to eat it." Finley rolled her eyes at West's overbearing concern. "Don't baby me, West," Finley grumbled, "I have to deal with that enough from Clarke. I know. But that meat had better cook fast. I'm hungry." West chuckled, rolling her eyes. If there was one thing she could always count on, it was Finley's bottomless pit of a stomach. "It will be ready soon, Walsh," Finley glowered at the use of her last name as West knew she would. "Just have patience." "Fine, Ainsley," Finley grumbled out West's last name. "But that thing had better be ready. I'm gonna rip into that meat. Then we kill a pig in a few months." West chuckled at Finley's blunt, disgusted use of the language, directed clearly at Atano. But she wasn't wrong. West got up from where she was crouching, hands going to the mantle above the fireplace, grabbing the two knives from it, where she and Finley had placed it along with their silver, metal wristbands that had been slapped on their wrists before being sent down to Earth._

 _Clarke had said, after the wristbands were forcefully removed from their arms by the Azgeda, wanting to inconvenience the "Sky People," that they didn't have to keep the bands if they wanted. Or they could, if they wanted a reminder of where they came from. As far as West and Finley both knew, all of the twenty-six still had their wristbands, even if they weren't still on their arms. Their wristbands were a symbol of their origins. They always kept their wristbands around. If not on their persons, hanging from their necks on a thick string of leather, then somewhere in their bunks where they slept. Finley and West always wore theirs. The two metal bands were on the mantle where the knives had been, the difference between the bands signified by the numbers engrained on the inside. "Prisoner 180" marked Finley's wristband and "Prisoner 166" marked West's._

 _They had never stopped being prisoners, since as soon as they had dropped down into Ice Nation territory, they had been thrown in a cage and had been made into Queen Nia's dogs, but West had to admit, their accommodations were a lot better than on the Ark. At least here, their fates weren't necessarily sealed, carved in stone. On the Ark, their fates would have been sealed. They had all been imprisoned and isolated in the Skyboxes. And when they turned eighteen, they would all have ended up being floated, had it not been for Pike deciding to send them down to see if they could survive after he had lost contact with the previous Ark people._

 _Were West and Finley scared for Parker, Glenn, Christopher, Cameron and Beryl like all the others? Of course they were. But down here, though they were still prisoners, they could earn respect, even if it was only a little. They could earn marks, showing them off as warriors. They could earn prizes for their prowess in battle. Down here, even in the Ice Nation, they were better off than they ever could have been on the Ark. On the Ark they had no respect, none. But here, even if there was a great deal of suspicion and disregard for them, West had seen it, the glimmer of respect simmering every so often in some of the Azgeda peoples' eyes. Sure, there would always be warriors like Flynt and that scum, Ivarb (West still didn't know what exactly it was he had done. Clarke hadn't told her who he had attacked) but in the meantime, they could earn their marks as warriors. That was something they never could have done back on the Ark._

 **(Page break)**

 **Azgeda territory: Border of Finland**

 _Parker leapt off the horse, sword unsheathed, a fierce snarl marred across her face, though it was mostly obscured by the mask she bore. She bolted at one of the villagers lunging for another Azgeda soldier, Dio, who had been started by the villager's ambush and before Parker knew it, her sword was through the villager's back. Parker almost gasped at how easily her razor sharp sword sliced through the man's back and came out of his chest like his body was made of nothing but flimsy paper. She heard the sickening "thunk" noise the impact made and the sickening squishing sound that followed, along with the dripping of the blood off the tip and edge of her blade. She found nothing in her craw when she heard those noises. No remorse, disgust or self-loathing like she probably should have._

 _She grimly nodded, wrenching the sword out of the man's body, watching as he collapsed to the muddy ground. There was no room here on the battlefield for remorse. Parker rounded on the oncoming mass of villagers, slashing and hacking at any that came her way, her strict, nearly endless training in Azgeda making it easy for her to whirl and dodge out of the way whenever a spear, rake or a tine of a pitchfork even came close. She twirled, right booted foot, hitting out, smacking he lower jaw of a charging man, sending him into another villager, the both of them being impaled on the Azgeda warrior, Groten's sword._

 _Parker whirled again, slicing her sword along the next to encroaching young villagers, both young boys that couldn't be any older than she was. This time, Parker felt a sliver of guilt, but pushed it away when the taller boy swung a small hatchet at her head. She dodged and sliced her sword upwards, the blade running right through the boy's elbow. The young boy howled as blood gushed out of his arm, his wrist up to the part below the elbow went flying into Beryl who was now off her horse and hacking into the villagers. The other girl seemed to barely notice the flying, disembodied arm as she stabbed the closest villager that tried to gouge at her with a rake._

 _The disembodied limb smacked uselessly against Beryl's armored body and dropped down into the mud, hand still gripping the small hatchet._

 _The tall boy howled in pain still and Parker knew that even if she had no pity for these people, given that they were the reasons she and the other four of the twenty-six were at war right now, she wouldn't make him suffer longer than he had to. She twirled on her foot, swinging her sword to the right swiftly, the blade connecting with the boy's neck, decapitating him. His brown-haired head went flying, his huge, brown eyes bulging out of their sockets. Parker heard a word she recognized as the Azgedasleng word for "brother" screamed from the shorter boy's mouth. "Yatow!" Parker winced, but in a flash, sliced the blade away, whirled around and plunged the blade of her sword right into the younger boy's chest, using his shock to her advantage._

 _The sword went through him easily, like he was made of the softest butter. Those accusing, soft brown eyes stared into Parker's menacing eyes. The accusation and horror in that boy's eyes finally pierced through the shell of anger that had been protecting Parker these past twenty or so minutes of charging and fighting. This was an innocent boy, who couldn't help that he was being used to start a battle. He was a pawn like she was. Parker winced, pulling the sword out of the boy, hoping that he could forgive her before he died, even though she knew that wasn't possible, not after what he had seen her do to his brother. She watched as the life left his eyes, a sob wrenching from Parker's throat, shocking her. She hadn't realized his death would affect her so much. She didn't realize this either, but she was completely still as more villagers flooded around her, trying to get at other Azgeda warriors thankfully, her eyes fixated on the now very dead young boy she had slaughtered._

" _Parker, what are you doing?!" Beryl's demanding voice hit Parker's ear, making the brunette jump and look at the Asian girl who was dodging and slicing at a snarling village woman with a spear. Beryl snapped without looking in Parker's direction, "Do you want to die? Fight back! They'll kill us if we don't start hacking back." Parker wanted to snap that she had already done enough, her heart clenching painfully as she looked down at the corpse that she had created. But she knew there was no room for that here. Not with so many peoples' anger and peoples' blades aimed at them. Whether she felt sorry for these people or not, as opposed to several minutes ago, there was no help for it now. They were of the queen's army right now. And the villagers knew that. If the villagers had had any doubts, Parker and the others erased those doubts by killing their people. The battle wouldn't end now until at least a huge proportion of one side was in the dirt, bloody and dead._

 _Parker snapped her head again in Beryl's direction when she heard the other girl cry out painfully. Parker looked at the other and saw Beryl trying to block the woman with the spear, but as a consequence was sliced along her right arm by a young man with a rake. "Beryl, behind you!" She yelled, forgetting her moral crisis for a second, swinging her sword again, the blade slicing through the spear bearing woman's right leg. Blood gushed out and the woman's body fell backwards as she screeched. She fell onto her back on the mud and Parker pulled her sword up, aiming down only when she noticed that Beryl had faced the woman again, the other girl pulling her other sword out, using one of the blades to block the young man's rake, the other piercing into the young man's throat. The man cried out as Beryl's thin sword sliced into him. Parker looked down at the woman, lifting her sword and bringing it down, hard into the woman's chest, trying to ignore the horror that spilled through her as she watched the life start to leave the woman's glistening dark green eyes._

 _There was no room for pity, regret, hesitation or humanity. Not here. Not if Parker wanted to survive or see the rest of her people survive. Parker pulled the sword out of the woman's chest, feeling sickened at the flow of dark liquid firing out of the woman's mouth as Parker pulled the sword away, the blood spilling down the woman's cheeks and chin. Parker swung on her feet with her sword, resolve restored. Kill or be killed. That was the only mindset she required at the moment._

 _And she had it. She aimed her sword downwards, the blade aimed up in an upwards stabbing pose, her feet galloping forward, feet leaving the ground as her wicked blade sliced into the next villager, this one about to light a torch before Parker dispatched him with one brutal blow. And along with his huge gasp of breath, his life drained from him as his blood flew out like a river onto the ground. Parker knew that she and the other four would be welcomed back as heroes for this, as would all of the Azgeda soldiers who survived here today, but that was so far from an incentive in Parker's mind right now. Right now, all she cared about was her and her brothers and sisters' survival._

 _As Glenn jumped from muddy rock to muddy rock, firing arrow after arrow at the oncoming villagers, each arrow hitting their mark, making flowers of blood fly from each villager's chest, neck and face, as Cameron howled in regret as she lunged with her sword, impaling a young man in his early twenties at least, dodging his rake, slicing her sword through his back, as Beryl twisted her sword out of the man's face and then sliced her other blade into his neck, slitting his throat, then bolting to the next armed man from behind, both ends of her sword flying into the man's throat, killing him almost instantly as he went down to his knees in front of the startled Christopher who he had been trying to attack when Beryl killed him, as Christopher yelled his thanks to Beryl, he swung his battle ax at the nearest tall villager who lunged at Beryl, Parker knew she had to go back to her cold mindset. Her people or theirs. That's all there was to it in situations like this. When there was no way out and desertion would be met with torturous deaths._

 _Right now, Parker had to be nothing but a killing machine, and her sword a hungry, metal mouth._

 _She took her sword, an extension of her arm, as Aron had instructed her to see it, and bolted forward, swinging upwards, aiming at the underside of an armed woman's throat._

 **Author's note:**

 **So next chapter, we'll get an update on Lexa and Anya and the Sky people that are coming with them. This story is mainly about Clarke and the twenty-six. But next chapter we'll hear more from Lexa, Anya and the others.**


	8. Accusations and an Innocent girl's Death

**Trigger warnings for flashbacks and trauma.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 8: Accusations and an Innocent girl's Death:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Ontari sharpened the edge of her spear. The black, metal pole was attached the sharp, powerful blade and was impressive for a spear. More and more effective and strong weapons had been made and imported or stolen as months had passed. The time of her mother's plans were getting closer, and so the weapons were being brought to them, to arm them. Of course, for Ontari, Klark and the others that knew what they were really going to do, these weapons would be useful in fighting against the Ice Queen. The times that Maaryo and Dayvid grinned and enthusiastically said things like "We're the rebels," Klark and a few other of the twenty-six who had common sense told them to shut up and not speak that so loudly. Lest they wanted to die. Some of those fools acted like it was a game. But some of them Ontari supposed, were endearing.

The sound of footsteps reached Ontari's ears and she turned to look at the door from where she was sitting, sharpening. A guard appeared, bowing down to his knee. "Ontari," The man exclaimed, "Your mother wishes to speak with you. She demands only you come and see her." Hiding her alarm, Ontari just lifted her eyebrows and slowly put the spear up against the wall. "She demands, eh?" She chuckled, putting the whetstone on the mantle of the lit fireplace. "That _is_ serious. Put out the fire, won't you?" The guard nodded and only lifted himself up when the black-haired woman went past him down the hall.

The queen wanted to speak with her, alone? Ontari frowned against her better judgment, pleased that there was no one else here that could see her. What was going on? She truly doubted that the queen had caught on. But a part of her dreaded what was to come in a few minutes, but forced a calm façade.

 **Four months ago**

 _David and Jesse arrived back, armed with sharpened bear bones, with a cart of sliced up bear meat being pulled behind them by the Azgeda-born warrior, and Saktar's little brother, Takdor. The two of them with Takdor taking the brown bear meat down the hill to the butcher's, then they walked into the main room of the tavern, laughing together. After they had each gotten a bottle of ale, they dragged themselves to the main palace, going to the hall, finding Clarke's room the door opened. Jesse went over quickly, wanting to say hello to her and saw Clarke continually looking at the candle perched next to her bed on the shelf._

" _Hey, Clarke." David chirped happily, making Clarke's chest hurt as she looked at them, her chest almost hurt worse than her slashed open back, were it not for how much her back ached and burned. She greeted them back and looked down at the bottle in each of their hands. She thought about it. Thought about it hard. The drink would make this go away, if only temporarily. If she hadn't lied to the queen, she wouldn't have been whipped and if she hadn't been whipped, then Glenn, Cameron, Christopher, Parker and Beryl wouldn't have been sent out to their deaths. Or to harden their hearts into the hearts belonging to killers._

 _Jesse cocked her head at Clarke, grinning. "Hey, how are you? You look kind of down." Clarke would have groaned at the obvious statement, had David Walker not done it for her. "No shit, Jes," David's voice spilled out as he walked over into the room, past Clarke. He went around the sharp blades of Clarke's weapons; her two battleaxes, four swords and, quiver of arrows and crossbow, and extra sword and grabbed a wooden chair up against the wall, bringing it over, jumping up on it. "Clarke, you look like all four a horse, a polar bear, Saktar and Mathias took turns shitting in your water or something. What's up? Is it your whip marks? Do they need to be looked at?" Clarke normally would have laughed at that jab at Saktar and Mathias. Or at least chuckled slightly. But there was no humor here. There couldn't be. Five of the people that she had needed to protect, had sworn to protect were in danger and right now on the battlefield, attacking innocent villages and being used as pawns to paint the ground with blood, all for the queen's pride and hunger for power._

 _And she had thought that she could start over and at least protect these twenty-six children._

 _But she couldn't protect anyone, could she?_

 _Jesse leaned forward, seeing the pain written all over Clarke's face. "Clarke," Jesse said, voice holding concern, "What's happening? Seriously, David's not joking. That's what you look like. Are your wounds getting worse?" Clarke's hands gripped the wooden doorframe of the doorway, wishing there were splinters that would dig into her palms. It was just the taste of what she actually deserved for her failures._

 _Jesse was looking down at Clarke's hands, mouth dropping. "Clarke-what-?" "Just stop it." Clarke growled. "I don't want to goddamn talk about it. I've screwed up enough, Jesse." The words kept repeating themselves in Clarke's head. "I've done everything I can!" Octavia's condemning words resounded in her head, "It's not good enough."_

 _Nothing she had done had been good enough to protect these people. And soon David and Jesse would know that too. "Clarke?" David's joking tone had been lost now and he was staring at her with concerned, frightened, pale blue eyes. Slowly, Clarke looked at them, knowing that they'd know sooner or later. She didn't know what her face looked like, just that if Jesse and David's reactions were anything to go by, then she must have looked like horseshit. Jesse blanched back, dark eyes wide with alarm. "Clarke?" The young girl asked._

 _Clarke grimaced with her next words. "Beryl. Cameron. Parker. Glenn and Christopher. They've been sent off in a raid. To go through a couple of villages just because the villagers didn't do what the queen ordered. She's using the five of them as her own personal killers now. Because she thinks they're weak."_

 _Jesse's face paled. "God…..no." Jesse whispered. David shuddered. "They'll be fine." The brown-haired boy said, forcing the words out, "We've been sent out on fights before. We've survived bears. Muskoxen. Bandits. We can deal with a few villagers." Clarke scowled. "You don't get it, David." She hissed, body turning more towards the two teenagers, taking turns glaring at them. "They won't just be in danger. They'll be killing other people. They'll be forced to kill. They're going to remember doing this for the rest of their lives." Her voice cracked with pain as she remembered the hundreds and hundreds of dead children's bodies all over the floors of Mount Weather. "They'll be haunted by the people they've had to kill. They'll be scarred for life." Clarke's eyes cast down to the stone floor of her room, heart feeling like it would give out at any second, wondering if any of the five that had been sent out had buried their hands in blood yet._

" _Clarke," Jesse whispered, reaching out and gently taking Clarke's hand in hers. "They're just going to do what they have to do. So Queen Nia doesn't kill them or us. They're doing what they need to do like you've always done. It's alright." Clarke shook her head, chest hurting all over again at Jesse's reassurance. "It's not alright." She whispered and said in a stronger tone, "It's my fault. I lied to the queen after I killed Ivarb because he was attacking someone, and she punished me. The others all saw and they were in pain over watching it." Clarke lifted her head and met Jesse's eyes, trying to get the other to understand. "They're going to war now because they showed me compassion." Jesse's face hardened, mouth forced into a line. "That's not your fault." She said quietly. "It's the queen's fault."_

" _Now I'd be careful about where you said things like that." An amused voice came from behind David and Jesse and all three of the once Ark teenagers jumped, looking at the direction of the voice. Ontari, much to their shared horror, walked up to them. The beautiful, pale, black-haired heir to the Azgeda throne, wrapped in heavy, ebony furs smiled at their reactions. "Don't worry. I won't say anything. Lucky for you, the queen's heir being here means that any passerby will avoid the hall. Out of…respect, I suppose, they are keeping away from this area so as not to anger me or the queen. You and your Seconds," Ontari nodded to the still aghast Clarke, "Are exempt from this expectation of those that are under my mother and my rule. You are to be Azgeda's future queen, same as I and are to be given as much respect as our people would give me or my mother." She nodded to Jesse and David. "Your Seconds are under your protection, so they may come and go as always until I or my mother orders them gone from here." Clarke opened her mouth, feeling her throat go dry. Ontari had just heard Jesse say something against the Ice Queen. And possibly Clarke herself too. What were the chances that Jesse would be safe though? Clarke was Wanheda, Jesse was just a pawn. Ontari smiled in assurance, which didn't do its job for Clarke. "Klark, I promise you. You and your Seconds are all safe if they only speak around me. As long as they don't talk about rebelling or anything like that, I won't speak a word to my mother."_

 _Clarke looked at Ontari suspiciously, turning towards the hall, looking down both sides, taking note that true to Ontari's word, everyone had made themselves scarce. Usually this hall was scarce anyway, as out of respect for the resident of this room, the Azgeda servants did not wish to anger Wanheda or the queen. But there was now really no one Clarke could spot besides Ontari._

 _Clarke turned back to Ontari who was still smiling. "You're not going to tell the queen?" Jesse pushed cautiously, face pushing into her soft, white furs as she turned her head to look at the nightblood before bowing her head slightly. "Ontari." Ontari shook her head. "Why would I? It would just hurt my eventual wife more if I hurt any of you. I don't need her to have a lower opinion of me. Since five of her Seconds are already out on the battlefield."_

 _David was glaring hot holes into Ontari, getting up from his seat and facing the hall now. "Yeah right," He said, any filter he might have had evaporating at his sudden freedom to say anything and glanced at the now alarmed and panicking Clarke, "Clarke will never marry you. She might say she will to protect us. But she won't marry you. She's better than that." "David!" Clarke almost yelled, fear shooting into her. If anyone heard David at all, anyone, he'd be killed or have his tongue taken out. Or beaten or tortured. Maybe Ontari would do it herself for this insolence._

" _What?" David asked, turning back to Ontari, face furious, "You're the queen's heir. Don't act like you're any different from her. You'll end up being just as bad as she is. Clarke knows how dangerous you are and knows that you'll kill us just because you want to."_

" _David!" Clarke spat, voice holding nothing but command now, drawing Ontari's full attention to her, "That's enough. I won't have you putting yourself in danger. Two of your brothers and three of your sisters are out on the battlefield. Risking their lives. I can't lose you too. And if they come back? Do you want them to find out that you're dead? Or that you're missing your tongue or fingers or eyes? Is that what you want, David?"_

 _The brown-haired boy looked startled at the demanding questions. He then swiveled his head and glared at Ontari who showed no emotions back as she glanced at him. He then grumbled, "Fuck this noise," under his breath and stormed out of the room. When he was down the hall, nearly out of sight, Clarke sighed, turning to Ontari. "I'm sorry, Ontari, he-" "That's alright." Ontari offered, giving a small smile. "He's young and impetuous. As I said, I would not do anything to harm him. He's your Second and you care for all of your Seconds greatly." She turned to the stunned Jesse. "May I have a few moments alone with Klark, Jesee kom Skaikru?"_

 _Jesse looked at Clarke, then at Ontari and at Clarke again, looking nervous. Clarke nodded. "It's okay. Go on. I'll be fine here." Jesse narrowed her dark eyebrows, not sure if Clarke believed that herself, but nodded and started walking down the hall, eyeing Ontari as she went and said softly to Clarke as she moved, voice loud enough or Ontari to hear. "Clarke, just be careful, please? Ontari is dangerous. Just for your own safety." Jesse then moved quickly out the door after she checked to make sure no one had heard her. They hadn't. When Jesse was gone, Ontari walked into the room and nodded to the door. Confused, Clarke slowly closed the door, locking the latch shut._

 _Ontari looked at the other young woman, unsure how the other would react, especially considering how Jesee and Dayvid had reacted. She wondered if their blunt opinions had any effect upon Klark, if the two of them telling her that Ontari was dangerous would influence her decision about agreeing to marry her. But she ignored that thought. Klark was a leader. First and foremost. She would not risk the twenty-six's lives for anything. She intended to keep them all safe, and she would keep to her word._

 _Ontari hoped that Klark would eventually marry her for more than just the safety of her people, but it was a start, she supposed._

" _What is it you want to talk to me about?" Klark asked, "If you want me to think you more than a torturer, I might feel more reassured if I didn't have to remind the twenty-six that they could be tortured at any second." "I'm aware," Ontari said carelessly, "But I do threaten many, as you know. Just to make sure. Even the most respectful or the most timid of subjects could be a threat if I'm not careful. If my mother isn't careful. Klark." She said in a quieter voice, now feeling her nerves not as strong, hoping that Klark wouldn't judge her too harshly, "I know this isn't even close to what you wanted from your life. It can't be what you wished for." Ontari smirked at Klark's snort of, "And you presume to know what I want from life?" "No," Ontari chuckled, "No, I don't. But you are very kind and giving. I don't believe you would have chosen this life it were your own choice. Am I wrong?"_

 _Klark lost her incredulous look and turned back to staring at candle, then looked down at the ravines carved out of the floor, filled with burning coals. "You're not wrong." She said grimly. "I'm not like the Azgeda. I don't like causing wars." She glimpsed at Ontari, as if waiting for the other to be offended. Ontari shrugged. "Well, most of us don't either. But orders are orders and as you know, terrible things tend to happen when the queen is disobeyed. Many of us obey for the same reason that you've seen many stay out of my way. Out of threats. Out of fear." Ontari raised her head and saw behind the bed that was right next to them was some of Klark's belongings. One of them was a device that Ontari had seen Klark wear on her wrist before. It was small, with a strap and a round dial in the middle. She didn't know what it was and Klark had never talked to her or anyone that reported to her about it. Next to the odd device, were many papers with drawings all over them. Ontari had seen these before too. Some were portraits of people. None of these people she recognized. Many of the drawings were of landscapes and animals. These Ontari_ _did_ _recognize._

 _Ontari didn't know, had never really known for sure if Klark was the one that had drawn these pictures or if they were drawn for her as gifts. She had seen the drawings all before but had never asked whether Klark had drawn them or not. Given that the first few times she had seen the scraps of paper, it had only been a month into knowing Klark. As it was too early, she would not push those boundaries and she suspected that it was too personal a question to ask Klark at the time and she had never seen Klark draw before._

" _I wouldn't have chosen this life." Ontari continued, turning away from the many drawings and the device, "I might have a talent for fighting and violence, but I wouldn't have chosen to be the queen's heir. I'd perhaps be a soldier." Ontari turned to look at Klark, "Being the heir, while it has brought me safety, luxury and power, it has not brought me happiness. I'm sure that you don't believe that power is happiness. Nor do you want it to be."_

 _Klark stared at Ontari, startled, not expecting this, obviously. "No, I don't believe power is happiness." Klark admitted, still sounding stunned. Ontari continued, "And as I've said before, I believe that whether she intended or not, my mother saved my life. I'm sure you know of the conclave?" The immediate reaction that Ontari received, which told Ontari that yes, Klark did know indeed what the conclave was and knew exactly what it entailed was not the one she had necessarily been expecting. Klark's eyes narrowed and her blue eyes darkened with anger. Her face contorted into disgust. "Yes, I know of it." She said, voice hard with emotion, "It's an inhuman trial where children as young as eight or nine are friends with each other and then are forced to kill each other to become a hypocritical tyrant."_

 _Ontari blinked at the blunt and cold reaction. She hadn't been expecting that. A reaction, yes, as she had been sure that Heda had told Klark of the conclave, just not that particular reaction. As the conclave involved the deaths of many young children, she had doubted that Klark would agree with it. But she still hadn't expected_ _this._ _That told her quickly whether or not Klark was still angry at the Commander for what happened. Ontari fought a smirk. While she didn't know what the word "hypocritical" meant, the way Klark said it made it clear that it was nothing good. The information that Klark was still angry at the Commander and Onya shouldn't have pleased her as much as it did. This was a meeting to form an alliance. She could focus on the matters of her cold heart later. "Yes, that is correct." Ontari said, voice not betraying her feelings. "The queen saved me from that. I would like to be prideful of my prowess in battle." Ontari kept her head high, dark eyes calm, "But I'm no fool. At the age I was when Nia discovered me, I had no skill with a weapon outside of a small knife and a rake. My mother and father were mere farmers. And as such they had limited knowledge of fighting as proper warriors did. Nor could they afford weapons like the ones in Polis and so could not train me to be strong with those weapons. And they had no wish to make me skilled or strong with those weapons. They wished for me to be safe."_

 _Ontari's back teeth ground together as she recalled her mother, Uda as the woman gave her daughter up, in hopes her only child would have a better life, the pain ridden all over her face, the agony in her father Maltol's brown eyes, trying to remain emotionless. "They were good people." She said sadly, knowing she couldn't help it and wasn't surprised when she saw the startled look on Klark's face at the emotion in her voice, "They didn't believe I'd survive long in Polis. I don't believe I would have either. Had I been found out by the priests and guards of Polis, I would have been a dead nightblood. Leksa would have killed me." At Klark's parted lower jaw, an expression of horror, Ontari smiled. "Like I said, I'm no fool. I couldn't have learned that fast. And everyone knew that the Heda of the time, Ahan was dying slowly of a wound. She only had a year at the most left of life. Leksa, the Commander, do you know when she was found out as a nightblood by the Polis guards?"_

 _Klark looked surprised at the question, but answered after a few seconds, "When she was eight." Ontari nodded. "I am three years younger than her. I was five when she was taken to Polis. And that was before Ahan got her injury in the battle when the Podakru had tried to take over Polis." Klark burst out into small bouts of laughter, making Ontari smile wide before she could help herself. It was well known that the Podakru had tried to "take over the world" once. Even before the current Commander had formed the Coalition, different tribes had been at war over territory. But some of the tribes had been more ambitious than others. The Azgeda was not the only tribe to have made trouble. The Sankru had tried to sack Polis for its resources, Yujleda had neglected their duties to the Heda when they didn't get their way. And Podakru tried to enforce its own version of laws into Polis by trying to kill the previous commander._

 _No one really knew what exactly the Lake People had been thinking when they did that. The Podakru were mere Lake People with boats and fishing poles. The Floukru were more of a threat with their bigger ships and much more well trained warriors, were it not for the fact that they were peace loving. Everyone knew that the Podakru had two quite insane leaders at the time. Leaders that had been thoroughly killed by Ahan. After everyone involved in the Podakru's attempted takeover had been executed, it had been discovered that Ahan had been injured. And she would eventually die from the injury, as she had gotten an infection. An infection that spread throughout her body. Lexa had been in Polis, already training at the time. Clarke personally knew that Anya had lost both her father and brother to the senseless fighting. Losses that motivated Anya's forced tolerance of the Podakru. When Anya's little brother, Lakar and her father Iarday were killed, leaving Anya, her little sister, Tris who had been only a baby at the time, and their mother, Orheni alone in the world, it had hardened Anya's heart. Clarke found her thoughts straying towards Anya again and pushed them away, heart clenching in a murderous grip. She couldn't afford to think about_ _either_ _of_ _them._

" _Well," Ontari continued, still smirking, "the current Heda was there at Polis when Ahan was first injured. It was two years after she was first taken from her home. And she was already well into her training under the woman that would eventually be her general." Ontari could see Klark tensing at the mention of Leksa and Onya and knew they were heading into dangerous territory. So she started talking about the point she was trying to make, "I was found a year after the Podakru attempt. I was seven. The previous commander died a year later from her wounds. And the current commander was far too well trained by then for me to have been a match for her. She would have killed me. I am certain of this. So in that way? Nia saved my life by taking me from my home. I may be a tool for her. But she still saved my life. I've lived fourteen years longer because of her."_

 _Klark seemed to think about what Ontari was saying and asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, voice suspicious, "Well, it sounds like you've got this all figured out. Even if you aren't necessarily happy, you're grateful that you've lived longer. Thanks to the queen." Ontari nodded. "I am. Don't misunderstand me. I truly am grateful for the time I've had in my life. But as I said, power does not bring happiness. Luxury, safety, strength, armies. Certainly. But not happiness. I am grateful for how long I've lived. But I would give it up if I knew that I'd have a few years of happiness. True happiness." Klark looked like she was about to stumble, paling at the admission and Ontari wondered if she'd need to lunge in and catch the other young woman and keep her from falling, but the sky woman steadied herself. She then looked cautious, as Ontari expected her to._

" _Does the queen know you feel this way? I can't imagine she would be happy to hear it." Klark asked dryly. Ontari shook her head, "Of course she doesn't know. If she knows, she does not care. I am a tool to her. A powerful tool. Just as you are. Her own pet natblida and Wanheda." Ontari's eyes locked with Klark's, "You understand why this plan is so perfect for her? She has a natblida as her heir, a natblida who, like all natblidas, is eligible to compete for the right to be Heda, and she wishes to marry me to you, the Commander of Death. Who all of our people fear and respect."_

 _Klark nodded, understanding. "Yeah. I figured that out a while ago. A Nightblood who could compete for Commander and Wanheda. It's hard not to know what she's doing. If-when we eventually marry, the tribes will wonder if the two of us are more worthy to back behind instead of the Commander herself."_

 _Ontari smirked, pleased to hear that Klark had figured it out, though of course she had. But it troubled her to hear Klark's slip of "If." So Klark still had doubts. Ontari didn't want Klark to marry her against her will. But she hoped Klark understood that her intentions and her feelings were not false. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about, Klark." Ontari continued, turning to the door and opening it, peering out of it down both sides of the hall, now sure that no one else was in the hall. She closed the door and locked it, coming closer to Klark who tensed up as Ontari spoke in a quiet voice, "I know that you didn't want to meet me in a place this private. But I need you to know something. You and your twenty-six Seconds? They are safe with me. I promise you that. If you marry me and we ascend to the throne of Azgeda, I promise you, none of your Seconds will be at Azgeda's mercy again. And so long as I can help it, they'll never be at Heda's mercy either."_

 _Klark's jaw dropped as Ontari took her leather water bag from her belt, uncorking it and drinking it quickly. The blonde blinked, stunned as she thought about Ontari's promise of protection. She couldn't say that the promise wasn't appealing. Especially the part about "Heda." Her mind flashed to the mountain, remembering the betrayal that had destroyed her. "And your mother?" She asked, eyebrows knitting together, trying to ignore the cold pain in her chest at the memory. "She's not an old woman, Ontari. No, she's not in her thirties, but she's not that old either. She's not going to be leaving this world for a while, so long as she can help it. Who's to say when she finds out you're giving extra protection to the twenty-six that she won't decide to teach you a lesson as she did to my Seconds?" Klark spat the word 'lesson' out and Ontari grimaced, having a bad feeling about what the queen would do if she heard this._

" _Which brings me to what else I want to offer you." Ontari answered, knowing that she was about to suggest something horrendous in the eyes of their people. Utterly treasonous. "I love my mother. She has taught me everything there is to know about power and the politics of Polis. And about survival and ruthlessness. But I know her. I know better than anyone what she is capable of. She is not loyal to the Azgeda. She is loyal to herself. I feel nothing but respect for her. But if she had to choose between her people and her power, she would burn all of Azgeda, till there was nothing but burning water and rotting, burnt corpses. I wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the tribes would be subject to this if her plan ever comes to fruition." Klark gaped at Ontari's admission._

" _Klark," Ontari began again, "I know what the Commander and her general, Onya did to you at the Mountain. I know how painful that betrayal must have been after you came to love the two of them." Klark tensed, lips tightening together and Ontari could see the pain the light-haired young woman was trying to hold back. The blonde closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as wretched memories stormed her mind. "Too bad it wasn't as upsetting to the two of them as it was for me." Klark said, snapping angry eyes open, "Too bad they didn't care." Ontari nodded, not knowing either the Commander or Onya at all and not knowing how they had felt about betraying Klark, but she knew that if they had any soul at all, then there couldn't be any way that they weren't in pain over at least hurting Klark._

 _Ontari had come to love Klark as much as someone like her could love someone else, and knew that anyone who knew the young woman, had to have been affected by her and had to have felt some remorse for what they did, if only because it had ended with wounding Klark. "Yes," Ontari agreed. "Too bad. I thought that they loved you too when I heard of their relationship with you. I don't think anyone thought that they'd-" "Stop it." Klark hissed, voice coated with pain, eyes slamming shut again, "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Just stop it." Ontari nodded, her icy heart cracking at hearing the noise. Klark's voice, now just above a whisper, sounded so wounded. Her jaw clenched. How could the Commander and Onya do this to Klark? "I'm sorry, Klark. Do you want me to leave?" She had something she needed to discuss with Klark, but Klark would not be willing to listen, nor would she be open to getting to know her if she was in this much pain._

 _Klark shook her head, opening her eyes and glared at the nightblood. Her voice came out in a choked snap, "Just say what you're going to say already."_

 _Ontari nodded, continuing, knowing Klark wouldn't appreciate her acting like she knew what either the Commander or Onya had been thinking at the time, "When we're married, we will be unioned and therefore, not only will I be your people, but you and your Seconds will be my people as well. And as a result, no one would question my reasons for protecting any of you. But that leaves the queen. I don't wish to be Heda, Klark. Anymore than I'm sure you wish to be Wanheda or the Heda's Hedatu. I don't even want to be kwin, but as that has been what has been planned for me by my mother until her eventual death, I know I can't go against that path. But I'm at least content with that path. As long as I'm only the queen of my own patch of land. I'm not asking for complete control of all the tribes. I'll just accept being queen. Being Heda? Taking over Polis and the tribes after the current Heda's eventual planned death," Klark gasped at Ontari's confession and the nightblood nodded. "Yes, Klark. That's the next step that our kwin is planning after we are to be wed. She plans to have my brother, prince Roan kill Heda with the promise of letting him come back home as reward. Once Heda is killed, my mother will have Roan killed, then have me kill all of the young nightbloods and become the next Heda. And with you as my queen? My Hedatu? Wanheda, respected and feared by all? No one would question it. And through us, mother will have complete control."_

 _Clarke shuddered as she heard the plan. It was horrifying, but yet, it made so much sense and was such a good plan. Because by that point, with no more nightbloods in the way, not to mention with Wanheda married to the nightblood who would be Heda then, who would go against such a verdict? Clarke hated to say it, but Queen Nia's plan sounded like it would be disturbingly effective. And from what Clarke had heard about Prince Roan, the dutiful son who had been exiled, of course he would be eager to do anything his mother said if it meant that he got to return home. Even if that meant killing Leksa. Clarke, despite how disgusted she was to hear that this was what Nia planned and that it would lead to Lexa's death, plus the deaths of the young Nightblood children and the deaths of any and all that even thought about speaking against her, found herself fairly impressed by this plan. She was disgusted with herself as soon as she realized she had felt impressed, but a thought hit her. What was to stop this plan from falling through once she and Ontari were married?_

 _She turned and looked at Ontari, eyes wide. "Ontari, you had to tell me this because you wanted me to do something. Why did you tell me?" Ontari smiled and there was no harshness or venom in the smile. "That's the next thing I wanted to speak with you about. As I said, I do not wish to be Heda. And I'm sure you don't want that either. Whether it's because you don't want Leksa and the children to die or because you don't want to be in that position of power after everything, I know you don't want to be. I love the people of Azgeda as much as I can. Even if the queen has told me that love is an inconvenience and that I'm not capable of love. I would not let the queen destroy them all in the name of power. After we are married and the queen is preparing to send word to Roan and to get our armies ready, I plan to kill her."_

 _Clarke nearly fell off her feet on the side of her bed to their left. She stared at Ontari. What? What? Was Ontari completely out of her mind?_

 _Clarke could feel herself not being able to fully process this insane information. Was what Nia planning horrific? Yes, quite clearly. And it would lead to Lexa and most likely Anya's deaths. But what would happen if she went through with Ontari's rebellion? How many would suffer? How many that she personally knew would suffer because of it? Nia had promised not to go after any of the Sky people in the Trirku territory if she obeyed. If she went against the queen, wouldn't Nia immediately send an army out to kill everyone in Camp Jaha? She'd fail like….like before. Clarke's breath hitched. Lexa and Anya had promised her and her people safety and it had led to her having to…_

 _Ontari's face was now blurry, spinning. The whole room felt like it was spinning. Clarke could hear screaming, even though she was certain that the screaming wasn't actually here at this present moment. They flashed in front of her eyes at that moment. Bodies. Thousands of them. Millions of them. Burnt men and women. Screaming children with bloody marks all over them. Babies burning to death from toxic air flooding their cribs and their lungs and systems. Clarke didn't even realize that she was physically reacting at all, till she heard Ontari's frightened voice. "Klark!"_

 _Clarke's mind spiraled, image upon image of her friends and the children in the mountain exploded in her mind, collapsing on her, making her bear witness to what she had done to them. A boy of only seven. His face opened in bloody blisters. A girl that couldn't be any older than eleven or twelve. She was drenched in blood. A little boy's soccer ball lay at his feet as he lay dead on the table, blonde hair soaked in blood. He had to have only been five years old._

 _Raven's screams as the drill went into her thigh. Her mother's howls of pain. Kane's pleas, desperate to reason with the Mountain Men who would never listen. Monty's sobbing. Harper, Miller, Charlotte, Finn and more of the 100 tied to the walls, screaming at the Mountain Men as Dr. Tsing drilled away at Raven and her mother._

 _Wells and Octavia being held at gunpoint._

 _Octavia's accusations. "It's not good enough."_

 _Monty's accusing glare as he stood around the river of bodies._

 _Wells staring at her, his eyes wet with tears, horrified that she had to kill all these people._

 _Two girls, possibly sisters, lay together in the lunch hall, clasping each other's hands, agony marred all over their now forever still faces, masked with their blood._

 _Monroe and Sterling on their knees in the dungeons of the mountain, the barrels of loaded rifles aimed at their heads._

 _Bellamy becoming a mass murderer along with her._

 _A woman lying dead in a corner, holding her young child, desperately trying to shield the child from the toxic air but to no avail. Both of them became bloody corpses in the room with all the other Mountain Men._

 _Lexa staring at her, green eyes now dark with cold resolve. "The deal is done, Klark."_

 _She only realized she was moving when she felt pressure against her rear and felt her palms come into contact with soft fur. When she felt two hands that she hadn't realized had been upon her shoulders till now, remove themselves, only then did the stinging from her back at the touch against her wounds start to be relieved and only then did the images begin to fade. Clarke gasped over and over again, breath she didn't even know she needed began to return gradually and she looked around, comprehending now that she had been seated on the side of her bed and Ontari was in front of her, standing over her, fear etched on her usually neutral face and her ever watchful, brown eyes filled with concern. Her facial scars did nothing to take away from the fear in her eyes, or the nearly tender concern on her face. "Klark?" Ontari asked, voice careful, "Where were you just now? Your eyes were glazed over and you were shaking." Clarke shivered, realizing she had had a flashback. It was obvious, of course. But it was still startling to have. She had thought that she had stopped having them after two months. Last month had been good. She hadn't had many flashbacks. Only a few. She had marked when she had these "episodes" on a sheet of paper she kept hidden in this room. She knew that the Azgeda, like all Grounders, favored strength above all else. It wouldn't do for people to know how often she had gotten triggered the months prior to this._

 _Clarke couldn't hold back an angry glare that she cast at the nightblood. "Where do you think I was? The same place I usually go when stuff like that happens. My mind went to the mountain. All the kids and the families I slaughtered." Ontari's once composed face twisted at this information. "Klark," Ontari said, kneeling slightly so that she was at the blonde's eye level, "Listen to me. That wasn't your fault. You were protecting your people. You were at war. You told us that you gave the prince of the mountain, Cage a choice to stop hurting your people. He didn't take it. You had to protect your people, because no one else would." Clarke looked away, eyes filled with pain. "You think that I don't know that I had to do it?" Clarke snapped. "But you're wrong. It IS my fault. I pulled the lever." Clarke was not going to tell Ontari or anyone about Bellamy pulling the lever with her or that Monty had made it possible. There was no way she was going to saddle them with the deaths of all those people. They weren't murderers. Bellamy only pulled the lever to protect his sister and Monty only wired everything to that lever to protect his people. Only she would be held accountable for all those murders. She wasn't going to mark anyone else as a mass murderer. "I was going to do it the moment I realized that they were going to harvest all of our bone marrow. Because I knew it was them or us. I didn't do it for any heroic reason."_

" _I never said you did." Ontari said, making Clarke gawk and turn her head to Ontari, staring. The black-haired young woman gave a sad smile. "I'm not going to paint you into some great hero of myth, Klark kom Skaikru. You're a person. You made your choice. To protect your people. To survive. For your people to survive. That's all. And that's why I am trusting you with this. That's why I know you will not wish for the queen to rise to such power, using the two of us. Because I expect you to understand that it's either your people and my people or Nia. Because Nia will not protect anyone." Ontari's eyebrows lifted with meaning, "Your people? The ones in Trikru territory? Do you think they'll come out of this unscathed, unharmed if my mother's plan goes along as she desires? She won't care who is in her path. Even if they're Wanheda's people."_

 _Clarke tensed as Ontari reached for her and she pulled away, going back, right hand going to the hilt of her dagger, the gift that Ontari had gotten for her no less. Ontari's smile was lost when she saw this. "Leave." Clarke commanded, voice weak as she heard the screams begin again, not even thinking about who specifically she was snapping at, "I'm not doing this with you. Whatever lie you're making up. Even if it's true, and you're planning this? I want no part in it. Stay away from me. I…..I don't want anything to do with your plot."_

 _Ontari stepped back, face freezing, no emotion being betrayed. She stood up fully as she began to smooth her composure. "I see…." She said quietly, ignoring how it felt like she had been punched in the gut. And the grip around her heart that clenched. She had failed in getting Klark to trust her. Klark saw her as a fraud. Or a traitor._

 _Klark had chosen not to leave this subject at the words she had spoken before, she sat forward, hand now gripping the handle of the knife. "I've heard those promises before, Ontari. Or have you forgotten? Because I haven't. Lexa promised. Anya promised. Your mother promised. And now another promise from you for my peoples' safety? Why? So I can get involved with another bloodbath?" Ontari felt her throat tighten and her chest hurt when she heard Klark's voice crack with that last word. "Is that what you want? To give me more nightmares? That seems to be what Lexa and Anya wanted! Stay away from me. I will marry you. But that's where our relationship ends. I only agreed to marry you to keep my people safe. Just go away."_

 _Ontari kept a stone composure. There wasn't even a tiny hint of how hurt she felt at the words. Her mother had taught that words were just that. Words. That they meant nothing. Deeds were what truly mattered. Her words had meant nothing to Klark. Klark's words should not affect her either, therefore. But they did. Ontari's lower jaw clenched, but she just bowed her head. "I will not speak of this again, if that is what you insist on. But I would like to remind you, many, many more people will die if Nia succeeds than if I don't go against her." Ontari watched Klark's reaction, and upon seeing the realization cross Klark's face, Ontari foolishly dared to hope that Klark might reconsider. But what came out of Klark's mouth was not what the nightblood had hoped for._

 _Klark leaned forward, her eyebrows narrowed and her voice coming out coolly, "Ontari, I'm going to ask you this. And answer me honestly. Where was this courage to rebel when Costia was at your mother's mercy?"_

 _Ontari nearly stumbled back, her composure almost shattered. Shock hit her like an avalanche. Kostia. Yes, she always knew Kostia would come up at some point. There was no way in all of Azgeda that Heda and Onya had not told Klark about Kostia. Because of course they had told her about Kostia. They would want her to know everything there was to know about what the Azgeda had done wrong to the Trikru. Kostia had been a daughter of the Trikru people. Had been the current Heda's beloved. And to start a war, Ontari and Roan's mother had abducted Kostia and tortured her. Kostia's head had been delivered to Heda's bedside. Somehow, Heda did not go into battle. Somehow she had been able to keep all her rage and grief contained. Ontari hated to say it, but in that way, Heda was stronger than she was._

" _Of course you know about Kostia." Ontari said quietly, looking away, knowing that she had no right to act proud with Klark's knowledge of such a crime. "How much do you know?" "All of it." Klark threw back, disgust in her voice, making Ontari's composure nearly crumple right there. "I know that no one did anything to help her. So tell me, Ontari. Where was your courage then?"_

 _Ontari clenched her jaw, breathing harshly and stood up fully, facing Klark, dark eyes resigned. "You are right. Of course. There is nothing I can say. Just that you're right." Ontari said, deciding that since Klark knew this much, she should know the rest, recalling, with a guilt-ridden memory, a pair of terrified, pleading, dark brown eyes, staring up at her from the floor of the dungeon, face and body scarred and beaten beyond belief, "I was the one that did it, you know? Took her head off. Ended her suffering. I told the queen that we should send the head to Heda's bedside to set off the war. I only did that to make a story to explain why I cut her head off."_

 _The horror Ontari was met with on Klark's face made Ontari wished that she hadn't released such an admission._

" _It was you?" Klark asked, her voice barely a whisper, "It was you? It was you?!" The last repeated question was higher and louder than anything Klark had said so far had sounded and Ontari winced like she really had been stabbed this time. Before Ontari could open her mouth and explain that it was a mercy, Klark had dove for the floor and had scooped up her long sword, gripping its black leather handle, silver, gleaming blade aimed right at Ontari. Ontari froze, her expression finally frozen in shock. Klark stared at Ontari with venom in her gaze. "Stay. Away. From. Me." Klark warned darkly. "I'm not attacking you, because I know it would get the twenty-six killed as well as me. Not to mention the deaths of everyone I know and hold dear. But don't think I won't hurt you if you take so much as one step close to me. Stay away from me from now on. You act like you're trying to help? But you're no different from the Commander and Anya! Go back to torturing and beheading prisoners. Apparently that's what you're good at."_

 _Ontari felt each word like a dagger to the heart. Words weren't just words. They were blades. Poisonous arrows. Spears through the stomach. Blades to the heart. Ontari closed her eyes, trying to compose herself once more. She breathed out, staring at Klark. "It was a mercy, Klark. I killed Kostia out of mercy. I never tortured her. I swear I didn't. And I wasn't the one that stole her from her people. That was my brother. I took her head because I knew that my mother would never let her go. That she would keep torturing her. Taking her head was the only way to end her suffering." "Don't try to make excuses." Klark hissed, her voice so thick with betrayal that it made Ontari's heart hurt. "You never tried to help her. If you had just helped her escape-"_

" _And what would have happened after that?" Ontari asked, making sure to never raise her voice, as yelling would not help Klark in her state of mind. "Would we have gone to a village that most likely would have betrayed us because they were more afraid of my mother than doing what was right? They would have likely handed us over to the queen. And that would have gotten us both tortured. Maybe even worse. I stopped Kostia's suffering. And how would I have gotten Kostia across the sea to Trikru land? Especially when every dock near the water have guards that are loyal to my mother only, until you and I take the throne. Her authority comes before ours. And even if I brought Kostia back somehow all the way from this land across the sea to Polis and back into Heda's arms, do you think Heda would have been grateful? After seeing her beloved's wounds and beatings? Do you think I would have lived? Even if she was grateful, what do you think would have happened? My mother wouldn't stop until a war was started. She wanted a war. She would use any excuse to start one. Didn't you kill that young sky boy, Jaspa to save him from a slow and painful execution?"_

 _Horror struck Klark a second time and Ontari winced, not having wanted to make Klark experience that. But she didn't want Klark to believe that she had taken Kostia's head out of rage or pleasure. She had done it as an act of mercy. Something she was sure Klark would understand. "How many people have you killed in Azgeda alone to save them from being thrown in the dungeons and killed slowly, Klark?" Ontari asked. "I know you wished that you could get them far away from here. Just as I know you wish you could get the twenty-six far from here. But where would you go? Would any village truly hide you? Or immediately give you to the queen? And we know what would happen then, wouldn't we? Who do you think would be tortured first? Who do you think you would have to see die first? Blare? Caysi? Beril? Hoge? Martin? Kristofa? Who?"_

 _Klark's lips trembled and Ontari held back her need to move forward, wanting to wipe away the tears she could see forming in the light-haired young woman's eyes. "I'm just like you, Klark." Ontari said sadly. "I'm just trying to survive. I'm just trying to protect the people I care about. Even if that's from my mother. I'm trying to protect my brother. My people. And you. I'm sorry. But I know what will happen if my mother's plans truly succeed. I know how many deaths will befall this land alone if she wins. Your people will suffer. So will Leksa and Onya."_

 _Klark's teeth grinded together and her face lowered as she was barely able to keep her grip on the sword's handle. "Get out." She ordered, voice weak, "Just get out. I'm done with these crazy plans and big missions. I'm just going to try to survive, that's it. Understand me? I'm done."_

 _Ontari nodded, sighing. There was nothing more she could say right now. She had made her point and intentions clear. And Klark had made her position clear. Klark didn't want to listen. Ontari could see it in the blonde's eyes. She was tired. She was shaky. She was completely distrusting. There was no reasoning with her at the moment. Ontari nodded. "I will leave you now. But please think on my words. There is so much we could lose if Nia wins. And we have so much to protect. I'm going to send someone up to you because I don't think you should be alone right now. But I will not bother you again today. Think on what I've said." Ontari said, daring to allow her voice to possess a pleading tone. "Just think on it. And I don't need to tell you that what we spoke about can't be repeated to anyone at all outside of this room."_

 _Klark scowled. "How stupid do you think I am? I know that. Get out. Just leave. Please."_

 _After a tense pause, Ontari nodded. "Klark." She turned on her heel, despite everything in her screaming for her to stay and she went to the door, unlatching it and walking out. Even without the tugging and her chest, the lancing in her heart, she knew that in the state Klark was in, it wasn't safe to leave her alone with weapons. While Ontari doubted that Klark would do harm to herself because it would endanger the twenty-six since the queen wouldn't have any reason to keep them around, Klark wasn't in the best mindset right now. She shouldn't be alone, even if someone Klark didn't like was around her. Ontari went down the hall, thinking about sending two guards up to remove Klark's weapons. She started down the spiral stairs when Blare came bounding up the stairs with Lyndin and Farrun in tow._

 _All three of them were giggling together when their eyes caught sight of Ontari and their faces paled. "Ontari." Blare exclaimed, going to a knee which was difficult as she was on the stairs, but she managed, going to her left knee and bowing her head before Ontari balancing herself on her other leg, using that leg to push against a lower step, her left knee on the above step. Lyndin and Farrun were doing the same._

 _Ontari sighed, raising both her hands and gesturing for the children to get up. "Rise. Rise, I'm not interested in your groveling. The three of you will go to Klark's chambers. I need you to remove her weapons. And don't leave her alone at the moment. She is not in a state where she can be left alone. And make sure the wounds on her back are still patched up. Make sure the healers look at them." Farrun, Lyndin and Blare all seemed startled as they got up from their kneeling positions, and the looked up at their princess with questions. "Ain, Ontari." Blare answered, "Do you want us to stay with her till dinner?" Ontari nodded, knowing that Blare, given her attachment to Klark, wouldn't need to be commanded twice, if at all to look after Klark. Lyndin and Farrun too. Ontari gestured towards the pathway next to her, moving out of the way. "Go on."_

 _The no longer hesitant Blare nodded and bolted up the steps, followed by the two Azgeda-born children, acknowledging their one-day queen and going up the stairs with their friend. Ontari was glad that they were going up to make sure Klark wasn't going to be alone. Given Klark's raw state of mind right now, she shouldn't be alone. Klark had made sure the same thing would be taken care of with Kamirun. After what had happened with Ivarb, Klark had ordered that Kamirun be watched by Layne, Hoge, Kristin and Simown. They had made sure she was safe until Kamirun was sent off with Pakah, Kristofa, Glen and Beril._

 _Ontari watched the three children, listening to their footsteps echoing, only starting to go back down the stairs again when she heard a door open and closing, aware that the three children were with Klark now. Blare was a strange one. Despite how easily frightened she was and clingy to Klark, she seemed to be the only one of the twenty-six that wasn't outright terrified of Ontari. She was careful and cautious, like everyone, but she was the only one amongst them that didn't freeze up or look at Ontari like she expected a sword to be taken out and put through her chest._

 _She moved down towards the end of the steps, her entire being numbed over, Klark's accusing, burning glare branded into her mind. She barely heard the servants and guards all around her, acknowledging and bowing to her. Klark thought she was a monster. She likely still had a great deal of what the Commander and Onya had told her, stuck in her head. Her impression of her, and anyone in the Azgeda that wasn't a child perhaps was clouded because she still believed all the things that she had heard from the Trikru about the Ice Nation. Ontari breathed out slowly, trying to contain the frustration and pain inside over knowing that. It was unlikely that Klark's opinion of her would change any time soon._

 _She should have expected this reaction though. Klark had been promised by two powerful women, not unlike Ontari herself, that her people would be safe from harm as long as she trusted them. And Klark_ _had_ _trusted them. And Heda and Onya had both betrayed Klark. Hearing another promise like this and thinking of another war must have forced Klark to descend into horrific thoughts and memories. It was only a testament to how little trust Klark had left for people like Ontari. And it was all thanks to the Commander and her pet general. This was their fault. Ontari had meant every word she had spoken to Klark just now. They needed to stop her mother. So many would die if Nia's plan was successful. She could not win. That was not an option._

 _Ontari had been born in Azgeda territory. She had grown up in the Ice Queen's territory. While she had been taught that feelings were a weakness and that she was to be superior above all subjects, that she was also to be the peoples' protector. As a ruler you were also meant to serve the land, not just command it. That was something her mother obviously did not pay attention to. And should Nia's plans succeed, this land and everyone in it would suffer. It was Ontari's duty to stop her, amongst other reasons._

 _Her eyes narrowed as she thought of the emotionally wounded young woman upstairs. Klark would be scarred even further and more thoroughly should Nia's plans all go into place and she take total control. Thousands and thousands of villages would suffer. But if they fought back, if they planned a retaliation, there was a chance that those villages could be spared._

 _She had to wait. She'd give Klark time and room to think about her offer and to try to show her she wasn't what the Sky girl thought she was._

 **Present day**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Ontari moved along through the stone tunnels, nodding to the guards in confirmation as they bowed to her. Her mother had wished to see her. She knew she couldn't avoid speaking to the woman. As the queen's heir, she was allowed to come and go as she pleased. But when her queen mother commanded that she was needed, Ontari knew to obey. Day by day, week by week, Ontari had watched her mother's plans start to unfold. Amongst many emotions, Ontari had been grateful when Klark had taken her offer of an alliance and of coming up with a plan to usurp the queen. It was a mad plan, yes. And it would likely get many killed. But compared with the queen's madness, it was a mercy.

Of course, none of them, not her, not Klark, not any of the twenty-six, not any of the Azgeda apprentices that they had taken in, no one could speak a word of this planned betrayal. Not unless they all wished to be gradually slaughtered through slow torturing that would last months most likely. But they were keeping quiet successfully.

Ontari was troubled though. Why was her mother calling upon her? What matter was the queen calling for her to speak over that she could not speak with Wanheda over? Whenever the queen had made plans, any at all, she would call upon _both_ her heirs, Ontari and Klark both. So that they could listen and learn. Why was the queen ordering her to be in her presence without the queen's other heir.

Ontari tried to fight the feeling of unease and the hairs starting to stand on the back on her neck, but it was difficult. There was no way her mother could have caught onto their plans. Not this soon. She saw her mother standing at the doorway, leading to a hall of cages, the queen's eyes on her daughter. Ontari tried not to breathe out too harshly as she approached. She would find out what her mother wanted soon.

She reached the woman's side, not reassured at all by her mother's wide, pleased smirk. "Ontari," Nia acknowledged. "I am pleased that you are here. Have you heard the news?" Ontari narrowed her eyes, wondering what the woman was speaking when Nia gave the answer, as if hoping that her daughter hadn't heard yet, "We have a present for Wanheda. Something I think she'd enjoy greatly." Ontari blinked in confusion, lost on what the woman was getting at. A present? What could the queen have? In the dungeons no less. None of the possibilities that Ontari was thinking were good ones. She suddenly heard chains rattling, making her snap her head to look at the doorway, her mother's body and the stone wall obscuring any sight she might have of the inside of the cages.

She felt her mother's smirk grow.

"Would you like to see what I have? I think she'll be much more willing to go along with my plans when she sees that it will involve the deaths of all that oppose her." Ontari looked at her mother, confused as the women went inside the pit of the dungeon, going to the very first cage where Ontari saw someone chained to the wall. A man. Gagged. Chained. His hands were chained by his head, a cloth wrapped around his mouth, shoved into it and tied around a bar to keep him from slamming his head. His legs were bound as well. Ontari's dark eyes widened in alarm. Not that seeing just about anyone down here was a surprise, of course. Her mother caged many. But who was this? What did this man have to do with Klark? As she got close, she took in the details of the man. Short, brown hair. Bedraggled, completely. Filthy clothes that hadn't been touched with water for possibly months. His brown eyes were wild with hate and pain.

Completely lost one what was happening here, Ontari turned to her mother, locking eyes with the deceitful, brilliant woman. "Answers, mother. Now." Nia chuckled, smirking again, shoulders shaking. "So impatient. Very well. As I said, I wish to deliver Klark's enemies to her to make her more compliant with our plans. Heda and Onya of course will come later. But in the meantime, we have a smaller prey that she can enjoy killing slowly." Nia walked up to the younger woman who was still confused completely. Nia had to know that killing slowly was not what Klark did. Who was this man? And what made Nia think that Klark would want to kill him? Especially if it was a slow death?

"This man," Nia said, voice starting to tinge with disgust as she cast a predatory stare between the bars at the struggling man, "Is the last of our enemies from the mountain. The last Mountain Man. His name is Karl Emerson. I plan to give him to Klark as a gift. She can torture him as she likes for his crimes against her people." The Ice Queen crossed her arms behind her back, clasping her hands together, a satisfied smile spreading across her face, silver eyes glinting predatorily in the firelight. "I wish to see what her true wrath looks like, don't you? I want to see what happens when she is confronted with someone she truly hates. Can you just imagine how long the torture will last?" Ontari just stared at the man, turning away from her mother, eyes on the trembling prisoner who's only light, besides the lit fireplace were the three torches put in metal perches above his head. Her lower jaw dropped. It had to be somewhere on the floor by now. The last Mountain Man.

And her mother was going to use him as a gift to get Klark to go along with the usurping of Heda. This would add complications, if only for Klark's mental state. She rolled around her mother's words in her head. She wanted to believe that Klark couldn't torture anyone unless people she loved were threatened. But if this man was who her mother said he was, she didn't know if she could count on that.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Okay, so I miscalculated what scenes I could fit into the story. Next chapter will have information on Lexa and Anya. Don't be too mad at me, please. (Grovels pitifully and apologetically.) I just really wanted to get that flashback part with Ontari and Clarke in. It's kind of important to the plot as you saw.**

 **Anyone who thinks that Ontari is OOC, well what would you prefer? The over the top, stereotypical, murderous and rapist woman that we actually got that was a waste of a character? And yes, what Ontari did to Murphy** _ **was**_ **rape. Murphy didn't have a choice in it. It was that or death. That's not a choice. And whatever you thought of Murphy, he didn't deserve _that._ It's utterly disgusting that the writers are saying that he enjoyed it. Yes, because when men are raped, because they are men, they clearly enjoyed it if it was with a woman. Because really, how could a man not possibly enjoy non-consensual sex? Disgusting.**

 **To give people a sense of age, Ontari and Clarke are the same age, 21. Lexa's three years older, 24. Anya's in her mid thirties. I kind of upped the ages since, when Clarke ends up in a relationship with them, unlike a certain writer of the show, I wanted her to be of legal age. So she was about nineteen when she began her relationship with Anya. Nearing twenty when she first met Lexa.**

 **Dayvid: David**

 **Maaryo: Mario**

 **Jesee: Jesse**

 **Kostia: Costia**

 **Blare: Blair**

 **Farrun: Farron**

 **Lyndin: Linden**

 **Kristofa: Christopher**

 **Simown: Simone**

 **Hoge: Hodge**

 **Layne: Lane**

 **Kamirun: Cameron**

 **Karl: Carl**


	9. Luring the Monster out

**So an update at last. Sorry about the delay.**

 **Some notes here:**

 **Symoinew: Yeah, it's weird how few people actually talk about this. It's more than just annoying, it's toxic. Dangerous for Clarke who's already suffered enough trauma and loss.**

 **Skullgamerscy: Thank you, yes. Ontari cares very much about Clarke and her people. Actually trying to make her a more or less fleshed out character instead of the waste of character we got in the series.**

 **A fan: No, it is not selfish of you. In fact, it's being concerned about Clarke, which so few people in the fandom I notice, disturbingly actually are.**

 **BloodCraver6: Thank you. Hell yes, it's bullshit. Both the fandom and the characters treat basically everyone better than they do Clarke. Clarke is this series' scapegoat, both for the characters and for the fandom.**

 **Oh, and more ranting right after this chapter. I think my restraint got run over or something.**

 **Sorry for the delay in updating.**

 **Warnings for someone being more or less triggered by the end of this chapter and having an anxiety attack, mentions of past violence and massacres, including the death of children. Mentions of attempting self-harm. And the mentions of someone being killed by a child.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 9: Luring the Monster out:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke hadn't considered that trying to get around everyone and attack them from behind would mean that she would be followed by Blair, who was throwing snowballs at her. She only turned to the giggling girl and gave her a fake death glare when the girl stuck her tongue out at her.

Splat! Went the multiple pelts of snow against Mario, sending the young boy flying. Normally a few snowballs wouldn't have done that to a warrior who had been trained how to be physically balanced, but he was standing at an angle and so when the projectiles of snow hit him, he went flying to the ground. "Ah, fuck a bear!" He yelled, going belly down onto the snow, face embedded into white powder. The giggling around him told him that yes, such an embarrassment _had_ been witnessed. He was actually thankful for the heat that rushed to his face since it was the only thing keeping his freezing face warm as he shoved himself up from where he had fallen. Face caked with bits of cold snow.

Farron giggled. "Now he has a beard!" "Yeah, right," Mario said, jumping up, wiping away the freezing powder that was quickly dissolving to liquid on his face, "Like I'd ever grow a beard. And sully _this_ perfection?" He gestured his right hand at his face, grinning. "I'm perfect exactly the way I am." "Right," Casey said, laughing, "Can we please throw all snowballs at Mario instead of making this a game? He seems to love the attention." "Oh, come on." Mario laughed, grabbing up a pile of snow and balling it up, "You guys all know you love me." He threw a hunk of snow at Casey's head and she dodged right out of the way easily. It was pretty much a normal thing for all men to grow beards in the Azgeda. Their faces would be warmed that way. Almost all of the boys in the twenty-six grew their beards out as a result, needing their faces to be warmed.

Mario, Hodge and Edmund were the only ones that didn't grow beards. For Hodge it had been because he didn't like how it felt on his face so he just cut it off first chance he got, for Edmund, he didn't like the idea of it making him look different. It wasn't vanity or anything. He just wanted his friends to recognize him. For Mario, it was just plain vanity. A fact that Clarke and all of the twenty-six made fun of him for.

Farron giggled as he watched the scene in front of him, when he was suddenly smacked in the face with another flying snowball and he looked back at the smirking Clarke.

"Klaarrrk." Farron whined, though he was grinning with excitement. "Yeah, Farron?" Clarke threw back, holding a snowball between her hands, getting ready to chuck it again, "Not in the mood to be covered in snow? I'll roll you down the hill. I'll make you be covered in snow." "Oh no." Farron giggled, jumping away, tossing some of the snowballs at Clarke in turn. "No, oh no. Oh, zesh." Klark laughed at Farrun's cursing and Farrun grinned. He had said a word that he wasn't supposed to say, but it was fun to use. He was glad to hear that Klark didn't think badly of him for cursing. Turning another year and becoming older than ten hadn't _felt_ that different for him. But he tried to curse more than he used to. But he knew he could only get away with that when he was around Klark and the twenty-six. If he was with his father, he would have lost a few teeth for his words.

He hopped out of the way, two of the snowballs successfully hitting the intended target. Farron yelped as he was sent down to the powdered ground. He heard Clarke giggle, "Are you okay, sweetie?" "Yeah," Farrun mumbled, getting up, wiping away the snow. "Nothing making you covered in snow won't fix!" He grabbed up piles of the snow in his fur glove covered hands and threw more at Clarke, who quickly moved out of the way, ankles now deep in the snow.

Clarke heaved out a breath, as red-faced as all five Casey, Farron, Kristin, Blair and Mario. They had been playing like this for what had to have been almost an hour. She and all of her Seconds were used to tiring workouts and training, but trudging through piles of snow upwards and trying to hit people with snowballs took a surprising amount out of you. She heard Mario's panting starting to heighten and knew that the boy was getting drained. "Hey," Kristin voiced, gasping for breath, grinning, showing that she was enjoying this too, despite her growing exhaustion, "Maybe we should stop now. I think I'm gonna pass out if we don't." "Yeah," Casey gasped out a few feet from Kristin, "I hate saying it, but I think my heart's gonna give out if I don't take a breather."

Farron groaned quietly, "Oh, can't we stay out a little longer? I want to still play." The boy was red-faced though and his breath was heaving in and out weakly. Clarke chuckled, amused at the boy's eagerness, despite how tired he was. He always tried to drag out their games, understandably. It was rare, even now, when almost all of them were valued warriors that they got the privilege to have their own free time and play. But their free time right now was coming to an end. And besides, they all were pretty worn out. Well, she had been trained to the brink far more than these kids had. So she knew her limit. She knew that she had at least a few more good sessions of running around throwing the snowballs at them. But she wasn't going to encourage them. They probably needed, not just for fulfilling duty but for their own physical health, to go sit down before they went off to training again. Exerting themselves before going off to exert themselves more would not be a good idea.

"I know, I know, sweetie." Clarke answered Farron's forlorn reaction. "But we all need to take a rest for a while. You need to go to training. And I don't want to hear how you don't want to go. You think _I_ want to go to training later? Let's go to the baths and calm down before we go to the grounds." A few grumbles from the others and she smirked and they were soon dropping their still formed snowballs onto the frozen ground, heading to the bathhouse. She couldn't exactly blame them for not wanting to train. While she was training with her own teachers, they wouldn't just be watching. Before her teachers were finished with her lessons and she could move on to teaching her Seconds, Mario, Casey, Farron, Kristin and Blair would take training from additional teachers. So there would be no rest in sight after they were done with bathing and suiting up for training in a two hours.

There was nothing fun or calming about that. So Clarke couldn't blame them at all for wanting to procrastinate as long as they could on the matter.

But no way around it. "Come on." She said, nodding towards the bathhouse as more grumbles along with her Seconds trailed after her and she smirked. She burst out laughing with Mario's dry remark, "Hell, at least if I was back in my room, I could just wait and see if Muara, Zela or Payna want to have fun instead." "Do not give me that visual," Clarke rolled her eyes, "I don't need to think about my little brother doing that." She smirked over her shoulder at the grinning Mario. Her eyes then went to Farron. "And watch your mouth around Farron." Mario turned to Farron who was looking between them, not understanding what Mario had implied thankfully and he shrugged. "I don't think he got it."

Before Clarke could scold him, Kristin smacked him on the arm, earning a chuckle from him. Clarke rolled her eyes. It was really weird thinking that _they_ were part of a revolution within Azgeda. But it was true.

She glanced down at the trusting looking Farron. She knew that he knew what she had done, as all of the children of Azgeda knew. It both broke her heart and made her want to hug and protect Farron and children like him all the more. It was the knowledge that even though they knew that she had killed hundreds of children in the Mountain, and had destroyed villages and families in the service of the queen, but still they respected her. Trusted her. It destroyed her sometimes.

 **(Page break)**

Ontari left the dungeons feeling lightheaded. The last Mountain Man in the world. And he was here. In her mother's dungeons. An offering to Ontari's eventual wife as a means of tempting Klark. Ontari had seen Klark commit ruthless acts before. During attacks on villages. During interrogations. It had been unsettling at best to witness, but when twenty-six lives were held against her, Klark was quite capable of torture. However, every action, every cut, every dismemberment of limbs that Ontari had witnessed Klark causing, had been forced, with a mechanical look on Klark's face that had been unreadable.

All the tortures that Klark had committed since becoming an Azgeda warrior and general, had been passionless, wrathless, unfeeling. Forced. Necessary. This? The last Mountain Man? This would force terrible things to the front of Klark's mind. This would force demons forward and bring them out to destroy. Every single time the queen had called Klark forward to torture a prisoner or whip someone, Klark had been a machine. She had been emotionless. She had been as emotionless as a statue each time. If rage was what Nia wanted, it just might be what she'd get this time. Seeing the last Mountain Man, seeing this Karl Emerson would latch hooks into Klark and bring out something dark and ugly. The queen would finally have something to truly influence Klark with. With the twenty-six, it was a means of holding lives against her and getting her to do what she wanted. Nothing more than a servant. But here? With this Mountain Man? An enemy, who the queen had claimed that many of her servants had heard mock Klark in Ton DC, telling her of her peoples' pain and torture in the Mountain, was a sworn enemy?

There would be wrath coming out of Klark like she could never even imagine. It wouldn't make Klark a tool, the Mountain Man's presence would make Klark into a mad dog. Ontari didn't want to believe that Klark could torture someone out of wrath and actually _enjoy_ it. And she didn't want to find out. When she finally regained some of her breath and her footsteps settled and it stopped feeling like she was going to topple over at any second, she, her careful steps reached the middle of the room and she breathed out harshly. She needed to speak with Klark. Now. She dragged in a breath and made her way to where she knew Klark was likely to be by now. She would go to the baths, and then go to where the newer apprentices were. She knew that after she and the others were done playing, Klark would likely go for the baths and clean up. The kids were allowed in the baths as well as long as it was Klark's Seconds. And after that, they would likely depart from each other and Klark would go to where the Azgeda orphans were staying and check on them at the growing building that was the healing building. She'd ask Klark if they could speak in another room, out of earshot. They had to talk now. Usually when they were together, it didn't end with _just_ talk, but right now, it was vital that they speak and not be distracted by anything at all.

Even at her worst, when Ontari's mother had both Klark and her own adopted daughter at the border of another village that had defied her, in the area the Azgeda knew as "Ropar," two months ago, Nia had decided she had wanted to see if Klark herself could commit the massacre of a whole village without self-defense. Much to Ontari's horror and to Klark's own, the order had been plain and simple; kill every last person in the village, including the children. If Klark didn't? The threat was unsaid, but the queen didn't need to utter it. Klark had to kill everyone in the village. Or every last one of the twenty-six would be tortured to death. And then the Sky People in the Trikru territory would be wiped out by Azgeda forces.

And so, with what Klark described afterwards as having an imaginary knife to her throat, or to her peoples' throats, Klark had done exactly what Nia had commanded and had led the charge with all of the Azgeda soldiers at her back. Ontari herself had been responsible for the slaughtering of more than thirty different villagers, more than half of them not yet full grown. It was a horrifying thing to do. Absolutely horrifying. Her whole life, since she had been taken from her mother and father as a child, she had been forced to kill bandits, nomads, unwilling and tired soldiers and slaughter villagers whose only crime usually was not worshipping the queen and her bloodthirsty, power hungry ways.

That night, after the massacre of the village in Ropar, Ontari had watched Klark as they laid next to each other in bed, but Klark hadn't been able to sleep. She hadn't even cried. She had just stared blankly and unfeelingly at the wide ceiling of their room. It had only been Klark's twitching shoulders that had signaled to Ontari that Klark was digging her nails into the palms of her hands, trying to make her hands bleed. Ontari had discovered this and immediately restrained the other young woman, pleading with her to stop, till Klark finally broke down that night, crying into Ontari's neck.

All the rage and pain that Klark was suppressing inside her, would come out in a frenzy if she was given something to torture and kill, with good reason to unleash her darker side.

Ontari had carried through with all the commands that her mother had thrust upon her. All for the sake of her people, of her country. So that Nia wouldn't torture and kill them. Wouldn't murder any of the people who Ontari had come to know as her people and had protected again and again in battle. Klark had been forced to do the same again and again for her own people. It was why Ontari was able to understand the Sky girl so well. They were monsters when they had to be. When there was no other choice and lives of those that they were meant to protect were being held against them. But now Nia had something that might truly bring the monster out of Klark. Make her _want_ to kill. There was a difference between choosing to be a monster to protect people and choosing to be a monster because one gave _into_ the dark desires inside a person. Ontari had to speak with Klark. Now.

 **Hours away from Arkadia: A few miles from the border of Polis:**

Riding together through the woods away from Arkardia, riding alongside a group of people that hated them hadn't been as eventful as she thought it would be. Having the acidic glares from Wels, Reivon, Oktevia, Munroh, occasionally Abi, amongst others cast at them, nothing yet had occurred. The one thing that stuck out, Onya noticed as she rode on her horse, Ayvon, was the way Wels would occasionally glare at Milla and Oktevia. She didn't ask. It wasn't her concern and they had only one thing to focus on. Going to rescue her and Leksa's hodness.

But Wels had always been the gentle sort. Always kind and understanding and polite. Like his lifelong friend, Klark. So what could be making him look at Milla and Oktevia like he wished for their deaths? It was a troubling thought. And while Onya _had_ seen Wels in battle, during the fight between her 300 warriors and the 100 and knew not to underestimate him, having seen him personally take down three different men, slashing them along the legs and throwing one over onto the ground, breaking his own arm in the process, to see him actually wish for two peoples' deaths, even if he didn't say it, was troubling.

Somewhere down the trail, another half hour passing by, with only the occasional chatting between the different groups of people being heard besides the horses' running, Milla spoke up, frustration clear in his voice, "Hey, are we gonna see the boats soon?" He held fast to his horse, legs wrapped tightly around the broad abdomen of the chestnut and black mixed mare he was on top of, hands gripping the reins, "Because if we're going to keep going this far and not see the docks, I'm for turning back around." Onya snapped her head around finally, pulling the reins of her horse, bringing her feet forward to the top of the horse's legs. She turned to the wretch who had spoken. To the Sky boy who had dared spoken of abandoning his leader. "You would leave Klark to die?" She demanded as Heda and everyone else came to a stop. Milla's own horse was brought to a stop by the soldier in front of him and Milla looked slightly pale now, aware that he had said something he shouldn't had.

He visibly swallowed. "I'm just saying, how do we know she isn't already dead? If she is, we're just getting ourselves killed for nothing." Wels turned his head to Milla and Onya was startled by the vicious look in his eyes as he regarded the other young man. "Are you serious, Miller?" Wels spat, glaring. "Just like that? Clarke might be dead and you're ready to give up. You're not even going to try? Miller, do you even care at all that Clarke might be in danger? Just stay in camp if you're going to be that useless. You don't want to do anything? Then go home. We don't need you." Milla growled, glaring at Wels. "I'm just being realistic! You heard how the Ice Nation is. What are the chances that Clarke's actually still alive? If she's already dead, why are we getting ourselves killed when we can't rescue her? Clarke wouldn't want that."

Onya reacted before Wels could speak again. She was off her horse, next to Milla's horse, grabbing him by the left leg and the left arm, his leg in her left hand and his arm in her right hand and pulling him off the horse to the ground, making Milla's horse grunt as the young man fell.

Milla's father cried out, reaching for his gun before a knife was unsheathed by a Sankru warrior, Alarna, bringing the weapon to the man's throat, making him freeze. He turned to the woman and the dark skinned warrior narrowed her eyes. "Don't move, Sky Kataten." David Miller eyed the woman, not sure what she had just said, but knew if his arm even twitched, she'd slash his neck open. His eyes went again to Nathan, who was getting up from the ground. He looked alright and as far as he could see, the Grounder woman wasn't going for her knife or anything. Her arms were now just crossed over her chest and she was staring hard at the boy, as if she saw him as useless. The Commander had held up a hand as all of the other Grounders had looked like they were about to reach for their own weapons, and she was keeping them at bay.

Nathan glared, voice covered in rage, "What was that for, savage?" There were growls from the Grounders and David tensed, sweat pouring down his forehead, fearing for his boy's life, but the Grounder woman in front of Nathan, "Anya" didn't react, just stared at the boy.

Anya spoke coldly and clearly so everyone would hear, "You are of no use to us. You have chosen to give up on your leader. So you will be worthless in a fight. Leave. Take the horse and go back to your camp. You are no good to us. I will assume that if you come with us and we reach the Azgeda, you immediately will take your horse and run away. We have no time or use for a weakling like that. You are no warrior. Go back to your safe little camp." Nathan stepped back, as if having been smacked and though he was relieved that his son had not been harmed in any way, David genuinely felt insulted for his son. Had the boy spoken out of line? Yes. But his son wasn't disloyal or a coward.

"Useless?" Nathan echoed, looking personally offended. "Hey, which of us burned 300 warriors alive?" There was a sneer in his voice and this time, Nathan's father tensed, fearing truly for his son's life. Wasn't Anya the general of those dead 300? And Anya did in fact tense, her lower clenched jaw twitching. Her dark eyes narrowed. All the Grounders around them, tensed as did the 100 and the guards, ready for a fight to break out, but Anya did not react with any visible anger.

She spoke her next words coldly, "Do not take credit for something _you_ did not do, Naythaan. You weren't the one that ordered the making of the ring of fire that consumed my warriors, Klark was. Klark was the one that saved you. All of you." Anya gestured to all of the Ark people on the horses. "You," She turned back to the still emotionally wounded Nathan, "Did nothing, but shoot at us with your guns and missed. You did not come up with the idea for the ring of fire, Klark did. You did not create the ring of fire." Anya turned her head and looked at Raven, who now looked uneasy, " _She_ did. As I understand it, you did not even press the button that set off the fire and killed my warriors. I was there, inside the ship. I saw it. Klark was the one that pressed the button. Not you. Klark was the one that came up with the bomb at the bridge. Jaspa was the one that shot the bomb." Every member of the 100 present and Raven flinched at the mention of Jasper and Anya turned again to Raven, "And Reivon was the one who created the bomb and put it at the bridge. So what was it that you did that was useful?"

She stared and stared hard at Miller, waiting for a reaction as the young man began to look more and more offended, like he wanted to snap at her. "You will be of no concern to us." Anya continued. "If we are only a few men less than before, it will make no difference. And I say a few men less, because Heda," She turned to the Commander, "I request permission to send two of my men to escort Milla back to his camp. He is of no use to us." She then bowed her head respectfully, as if aware she had just spoken out of turn.

Miller blanched. "Hey!" He cried, looking absolutely offended now. David wanted to yell at his son to shut up and not get the Grounders angry, but the Grounders just ignored Nathan. The Commander, who David had learned was called "Heda" in their language, turned to Anya, then looked at Nathan who stared up at her, with affronted eyes. The dark-haired woman nodded. She turned to two slim warriors on horses. "Tabow, Rovzen, take this Sky boy back to his camp. Do not harm him in any way. You will regroup with us at the docks. Ride fast. If you are not at the docks by the time we are all in the ship, we are leaving. And the two of you return to your own people." Both men nodded. "Sha, Heda!" They barked. They turned to Miller, one of them grabbing the reins of Nathan's horse and pulling the animal to Nathan's side. The other man said coldly to the shocked Nathan, "Sky goufa, get on." Nathan stared up at the man, his face turning from wounded to infuriated. "You're fucking with me." He snapped, glaring at Anya and the Commander. "I don't act the way you want and you send me back? Screw you."

"Nathan!" Octavia yelled before his father could reprimand him, "Shut up already. Just go back to camp. We'll take it from here, okay? Just stop saying stuff that will get your ass kicked." "You're one to talk," Nathan threw back, glaring at Octavia, then glared again at Anya, "Who are you to decide where I go?" The Commander spoke in a clear, icy voice before anyone could say anything more, voice dripping with a threat, "She is not ordering this. I am. You are to be returned to your camp. I am Heda." The Commander stared coldly at the boy with steel green eyes. "You will know your place. If you are slowing down this mission and are of no use to us, then I order that my warriors bring you back to your camp. This is my choice. I will not have you endangering Klark further by slowing us down or causing problems when we go to Azgeda." She turned to Abby, Wells, Octavia, Lincoln and Raven. "Abi, Reivon, Wels, Oktevia, Linkin. As the leaders of your people now, I ask that you order Milla to go back to the camp so as not to endanger our mission."

The Commander's voice left no room for argument. She wasn't _asking._ "Sha, Heda." Octavia answered, nodding, glaring at Nathan. She then turned sympathetically to David Miller. "Mr. Miller," Abby said, "You should go back with him. He's been separated from you long enough. The both of you should go back. We'll rescue Clarke. But go, be with your son." David looked at Abby, frowning. Was Abby sure? Clarke had risked her life to save him and his son. She had killed all the Mountain Men to protect them. He had to go and help her. "Abby," He hesitated, "Clarke, she…she saved all of us-"

"And she wouldn't want you risking your life and not being with your son." Abby threw back, "I can't ask you to risk your life and not see your son when I'm going to find Clarke." Abby closed her eyes, taking a breath and David had an idea of just how stressful this was for her. "Just go. Make sure he doesn't cause more trouble for the Commander. We need to be on our way. Clarke needs us. So just go." David sighed, nodding. He had done what he could for them at the camp. And he couldn't do this to his son, go into danger when they had only gotten out of it seven months ago. They had almost died horribly at the Mountain Men's hands. He had to be there for his son for as long as he could be.

He hadn't fought against these Grounders ever. But if these warriors were anything to go by, it would be near suicide to get into a fight with them. Had the 100 burned 300 of them alive? Sure. But at the cost of twenty-eight of their own. They had to fight tooth and nail and then some to even come close to killing 300 of them. If that was the case for _these_ people, then what were the "Azgeda" like? The Azgeda, who according to the "Trikru," were much, much worse than they were. Who even by the Trikru's standards, were savages. No, David knew he would perhaps regret it forever for not being there for his people, not helping his fellow guards and the other 100, his son's friends. But it would destroy him worse if his last moments were not spent with his son and in some frozen wasteland surrounded by people that wanted to torture him to death.

"I'll go." He said, speaking with more heavy emotion than he intended. "Nathan. You heard the Commander. It's time to go back to camp. Get back on your horse." Nathan stared up at his father, glaring, betrayal written all across his countenance. "You're taking the Grounders' side?" Nathan barked in disbelief. "They betrayed us!"

"Oh yeah," Wells grumbled, "Like you didn't betray Clarke too? In the mountain? Tell me, how much help were you again when Clarke said that she didn't trust the Mountain Men? You and Monty and the others? How helpful were all of you?"

Anya and Lexa both turned their heads in Wells's direction when they heard that, their faces emotionless, but curiosity flitting briefly in their eyes when they heard this. Nathan's chest puffed out, glaring at Wells again, like the other young man had also betrayed him, a hurt look in his eyes. "That was different!" He snapped, "We thought we were safe from _them."_ Miller glared hatefully at the Commander and Anya. Anya stared at Nathan, her countenance somehow growing colder.

"We thought that the Mountain Men could be trusted." Nathan snapped. "We thought that _they_ wouldn't betray us and we thought the Grounders wouldn't either. All the ones getting betrayed were us. We never betrayed anyone."

Wells shrugged, glaring, "Yeah, sure, except when Clarke needed help." "You son of a-" Nathan spat, glaring, walking towards Wells's horse, when David called out his son's name and both Tabow and Rovzen leapt off their horses, and jumped in front of Nathan, blocking him from approaching Wells. "Milla," The Commander said, voice deadly now, making every single person, Sky, Trikru and other Grounder alike freeze, "This is not your decision to make. You will go back to your camp. Any more objections, and you will be carried back. Is there any of this I'm making unclear?" The Commander turned to David. "If your son persists, I cannot promise you that he will go back to your camp without any harm coming to him. For the sake of an eventual alliance, and for Klark's sake, I would like it not to end that way. Please help escort your son with Rovzen and Tabow to your camp."

David winced. He didn't like it. This was the woman that left him and his son and his people to die. But his son was all he had left. If anything happened to him, there would be no point in living anymore. He nodded, hating himself all the more for doing as this traitorous, murderous ruler said. He knew his son would be disgusted with him. But he had to make sure that Nathan was safe, before anything else.

"Nathan," David said, his voice quiet, but catching the young man's attention quickly, "Do what she says. We're going back to camp. I don't want to hear any more of it. Get back on your horse. We're leaving. Don't make me say it again. And you're wasting precious time by staying here, arguing. Get. On. Your. Horse."

Looking incredibly affronted, like he wanted to do anything except listen to what his dad had told him to do. He looked at all the others, from Octavia's determined, commanding glare, to Lincoln and Abby's resigned look, to Raven's nervous look, to Wells's glare of restrained rage. He was not going to get any support on his side of the argument here and he knew it. It made his hands clench into fists with self-righteous fury. Didn't they get how much these people were messing with them? Did they really think the Grounders could be trusted? How long would it be before they betrayed them _again?_ When they reached the Ice Nation, what were the chances that the Commander and her cronies would actually stick around instead of offering them up to the Ice Queen so as to appease her?

Tabow and Rovzen moved closer and Nathan heaved out an angry breath. There was nothing he could do now, and he knew it. He turned and glared at Anya. "Fuck you." He spat, turning and heading back to his horse, stepping up onto the left stirrup and pushing himself up onto the animal. A few seconds later, he was fully on the horse, Rovzen and Tabow were back on their horses and the two of them, plus David Miller were herding Nathan away from the others. David said his goodbyes, pleading with Abby to be careful and he left with the other three.

Once the four horses were deep in the forest, away from the rest of the party, Anya looked at the Commander, bowing her head again. "I ask your forgiveness, Heda. I know that I had no right to touch the Sky boy and order his return to Skaikru camp."

The Commander waved her hand. "Pay it no mind, Onya. You were wise to see a weakness in the group of warriors we took. And chose to get rid of it." As Anya got back up onto her horse, the Commander regarded the rest of the 100 and the sky people. "We are going to rescue Klark. We cannot afford any weakness or hesitation. Anyone else who thinks this is a waste of their time, may go back to their camp. But if one of you slow us down again or keep us from going to Azgeda to retrieve Klark, even suggesting that she might already be dead, and I will end your fight. I will not let you put Klark in danger by trying to prevent us from going to Azgeda. If anyone wishes to leave, you may. But do not get in the way. Now, we will be on our way." The commander started her horse onwards, the horse ordered Trikru following the Commander one by one, starting with Anya, took off, the shared, terrified looks between the Sky people and the 100 keeping them quiet.

 **(Page break)**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke had asked, after she and the others had bathed that they go and meet with their additional teachers. She didn't have to worry about the said teachers, Kastra, Tar, Ontvua and Setra getting out of hand with their training. They knew to have their limits when it came to the twenty-six and the Azgeda children that she and the twenty-six had basically adopted. They knew to not be too rough, unless they wanted to risk the wrath of Wanheda. And the queen would not risk her resistance.

Of course, the latter was already destined to occur. A coup was being planned behind closed doors. While Nia thought that she had all her pawns under her thumb, cowed down with threats and might, behind her back, her own daughter, Ontari and her weapon, Wanheda were planning a revolution. Granted, a revolution of a bunch of orphans, barely fully trained warrior teenagers that used to be sky people and vagabonds they had picked up around Azgeda and had made into members of their little screwed up army, but it was a revolution. Even some of the older Azgeda warriors who were sick of how things were had joined with the fight.

Clarke remembered how everyone, literally everyone in the room froze when Mathias had asked to join them. They still weren't sure if they could trust him. Which was why she had Finley and Martin watch him every time he came within earshot of one of their conversations. Finley or Martin or both of them would be waiting in the wings, each armed with a dagger, aiming for the big man's throat.

The funny thing about Martin Shell, one of the older members of the twenty-six was that he was just so normal looking. Looking right at him, you wouldn't think, "this young man is dangerous." No, you wouldn't. One look at Bailey, even before her six months of training, you'd know she was dangerous. Casey, you'd know was dangerous. Finley, you'd know was dangerous. Bobbi and Parker and Dallas, you'd know were dangerous. Mario, for all his jokes and grins, always had that dangerous look in his eyes. You knew he was dangerous, that he was trouble. Even the more subtle people like Glenn, Kristin, Cameron, Sabine, Simone and Beryl you'd know were dangerous. Christopher, Jesse and David? You'd be smart to stay away from them fast. And it wasn't that hard to notice that they were dangerous at all. It was like looking at three armed tanks.

But Martin? He was just so normal looking. So unremarkable. At least physically. He was short, thin, calm. Light brown hair that he always cut short unlike Christopher and David who loved keeping their hair long. It wasn't just about keeping their heads warm in an icy climate, they thought they looked more "badass" with hair like that.

Then there was how quiet Martin was. Looking at him, listening to his voice, you wouldn't think he would be a threat. But he was. Him, Edmund, Finley, Paul and Blair. It would be like trying to find a stealthy, predatory wildcat in a pitch-black night. Those five had become so good at hiding in shadows. It was kind of scary. It might have threatened Clarke a little if she hadn't been thoroughly trained to find the five of them even at their best in hiding if it ever came to them trying to kill her. Clarke had almost laughed when she had heard the queen tell her that, till she realized that the queen was serious. It was then that she realized just how paranoid the queen was and had ordered the twenty-six to be even more careful about any information being leaked out. They had to be careful with what information got out and what didn't.

Besides, as she knew, Finley, Martin, Edmund, Paul and Blair could be trusted with her very life.

And the convenient thing about Martin was that he was very good at thievery. He had stolen quite a few vials of poison from the poison masters in Azgeda. All his blades and some of Clarke's own, plus some of the other twenty-six's weapons had coatings of poison on them, if they needed to use them.

Having warmed up in the baths had seemed a bit of an odd thing to do for anyone new to her and the others' habits, as they would just go out into the cold again afterwards. Still, they went to the baths and had enjoyed a good half hour there. Clarke always found it funny watching the kids play around in the water. She knew that the queen didn't approve of the twenty-six and Clarke's other apprentices being in the baths at all, firstly, because normally Seconds _never_ were allowed there, and secondly she was well aware of just how little a bunch of the twenty-six took seriously when they had the chance. And Clarke had been witness to this not but fifteen minutes ago.

Mario and Blair had immediately started splashing water at each other, laughing. Kristin and Casey had naturally joined in and inevitably, they got Clarke to start splashing at them too. Clarke personally was just relieved whenever she saw things like that. She was just happy that they could _still_ laugh and joke around after everything they had been through. It was a particular relief when she saw Beryl, Christopher, Cameron, Glenn and Parker get like that. For the horrific massacre the five of them had been forced to take part in, not to mention all the things Finley and Bailey had been forced to do in their line of service, it was just a relief to hear them laugh and see them grin with any kind of happiness at all. Plus, she was lucky she didn't have to deal with Christopher and David being in the bath today. If the two of them had been in there together, the splashing would have reached a completely different level of madness. There probably wouldn't have been any bath water left from all their splashing. It was probably one of the reasons why the guards usually insisted on the two brother-like boys from going into the bathhouses at the same time nowadays.

Stepping into the closest Clarke supposed the Azgeda would ever have to a type of safe haven or sanctuary for those that had lost their parents or the nomads that had been picked up and made part of their army, the wide and round walled structure of the place becoming all the more calming for her since she and her group had first established that it could be where the orphans and nomads could go and had gotten a say about what happened to the residents.

The rounded halls all had stone pedestals with stone bowls, all of which had loads of burning coals in their basins. Torches were slid into holsters attached to the walls. And there were multiple layers of heavy bear fur, wildcat fur, elk fur, muskox fur and wolf fur lain over each cot.

Clarke looked down at the three wounded young children sitting on the edges of their cots. She winced at the marks along Zane's left arm, Kadin's right leg and the bite on Faye's right shoulder. A bear. They had taken on a bear, most likely. If it had been a snowcat, the bite would have been smaller. Not by much, but smaller. Clarke felt the need to check every inch of the wounds, caringly, but knew that the newer recruited orphans like Zane and Kadin wouldn't appreciate the overbearing attention.

Many of the newest children taken in as warriors were being helped to adapt by Linden and Lane, as the two of them had been recruited way before Nia's troops had caught Clarke in the Floukru territory, since Linden and Lane were orphans. Many of the recruits were actually part of the eventually "overthrowing plan" that they had kept under lock and key. These orphans had more than enough reason to hate Nia. Her meaningless wars and grabs for power were the reasons they lost their families. "Hey, Zane," She said, smiling affectionately at the thin boy sitting on the cot, head of white hair chopped short recently lifting and his once childish face given the first mark of a true Azgeda burned onto his forehead, a mark given to him after the first man Zane had killed, a thief that had tried to run away with some of the queen's gold and he had slit the man's throat after jumping on his back, a young face of eleven looking up at her with cautious, but trusting ice blue eyes.

Clarke smiled down at him widely. Seeing Zane like this, one could almost forget that he had leapt from the rafters onto his first kill, the thief and had slit the man's throat. But he was a killer like all of them. Like she was. When she had finally gotten some of the facial marks on her own face after a great battle near the edge of the border of what used to be Sweden, connecting with the main Azgeda territory and the opposite mass of land that made up the nation, many more of the Azgeda warriors bowed down to her with respect and many others obeyed her instantly out of either fear or respect. As a result, no one questioned when she showed affection to those that were under her protection like Farron, Zane, many others and the twenty-six. And no one even batted an eye nowadays when she said that she wanted a particular warrior in her platoon.

A rare smile, a movement on the boy's face rarely seen, rose up on Zane's countenance. Zane was from a village right at the edge of where the boats came in. Given there had been a recent fight over the boats two years ago, Zane had lost his older brothers who had been raising him to the fight. His mother had died giving birth to him and his father had died in a previous war when he was only a year old. That had been why he had hunted down that thief that had stolen Nia's gold. He had needed a place to stay. And what better way of earning your keep and surviving instead of being left to freeze and starve than making it seem like you had the queen's best interests at heart? She sat down next to him, leaning down and grabbing up the medical supplies in the leather and wood made kit on the floor. "So you guys took on a bear, huh?" She asked, bringing the kit up to her lap.

Zane nodded, forcing his face to look more serious. "Yeah, it was really big. But it was slow," Zane grinned a little. "We jumped on it. Kadin jabbed it good in the eye." "Well," Clarke gently tapping Zane's arm below the bear's claw mark. "It looks like it jabbed you guys good too." Zane grunted. "Yeah, yeah." He shook his head. "So it was a dumb move." "Yeah, it was!" The tow-headed Faye cackled from where she sat, putting an aloe and soap water stained rag against her own wounds, a big grin on her face, mocking Zane, "I held back and only interfered when I had to. And of course I had to. Kadin, this is completely your fault." "Ah, hasy you, hok!" Kadin yelled from where the other injured girl sat. Clarke rolled her eyes. It didn't look like any of their wounds were infected yet. So as long as she just had them continually putting aloe and soap on their wounds, she and the other guards could proceed to patch them up.

A half hour went by and Clarke and her assistants, Paul, Avery, Lorena, Edmund and most surprisingly at least a few months ago, Flynt had successfully patched up most of the failed bear hunters. Zane grinned up at Clarke and said, "It's a pity we didn't have you or Caysi with us, Klark, you both would have destroyed the bear." Clarke shrugged. "Maybe. But nothing to help that now. Just focus on resting. You should lie down and let yourself get healed, little warrior." Zane's chest puffed out with pride as Kadin snorted from where she sat that none of them were even full Seconds yet, let alone warriors, till Paul snapped at her that she needed to rest.

Clarke chuckled, grateful for Paul and the others' presences. They had been incredibly helpful and important with healing those that were injured over all these weeks and months. And they had been some of the only presences that had been able to help her hang on to _some_ reassurance that she was protecting _someone_ instead of only existing to cause more and more deaths like the queen wanted her to commit.

She then heard a gasp behind her, making her tense and turned and looked at where Lorena was. The young girl of fifteen was staring past Clarke, and the brunette now warrior, still Clarke's Second though, nodded past Clarke, bright blue eyes wide. Clarke turned to look at where Lorena was gawking, and her head raised a little in surprise.

Ontari was standing in the middle of the doorway and several of the warriors got up, either to show respect or to get off their cots and kneel down to bow as they were supposed to, in order to show fealty. Clarke waved a hand. "It's fine, guys. It's fine. She just came in to speak with me." Clarke roved over through the different bunks and got to the tense but smiling Ontari.

Clarke smiled back, slipping her arms over Ontari's shoulders as soon as she was close and wrapping them around the back of the other woman's neck, nuzzling her forehead close to Ontari's. "Hello." She said, her lips ghosting over Ontari's for a moment. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going off to speak with your advisor?" Clarke was trying not to snort that last word out, as the said advisor, Hasenjo was a manipulative bastard that pandered to Queen Nia's every demand and took orders without question. If he had it his way, Ontari would be completely indoctrinated with Hasenjo and her own mother's brainwashing, thinking that Azgeda was superior to all other people.

Ontari smiled at Klark's small bout of defiance, but she lost the smile soon, her arms wrapping her arms around the other young woman's waist. She rested her head against Klark's. "There's something I need to speak with you about." Ontari said, her voice coated with barely restrained unease that made Klark tense. "It's about what my mother is planning. She wants…she wants you to do something that proves just what kind of a monster she thinks you are." Klark didn't even wince at the words. She knew what Ontari meant. Her mother thought she was some kind of unstoppable monster of steel and that no one who went against her was safe, and she wanted Klark to display those traits to make her own kingdom feel more fierce, more protected against those that might otherwise go against her. With a brutal and torturing Wanheda under her control, no one would raise a finger against the Ice Queen.

But Clarke never let herself get lost in bloodlust or in the actions of what the queen made her do. She never allowed herself to feel any rage towards the men and women she was forced to kill and torture. And it was relatively easy not to. For how could she hate them or feel any true vengeful rage towards them? They were pawns. Tools just like she was. They were caught in a manipulative game staged by Queen Nia as much as she, Ontari and the twenty-six were. They were as much victims as she was. The only anger she felt was towards the queen.

So the queen would never get what she wanted. Not really. Even if she didn't fully realize it. She sighed, shaking her head. "Whatever she's planning, it won't work. Even if she tells me that this person committed some heinous crime, I have no way of proving that he or she did it. And so she won't get any real ruthlessness or happiness out of me when she gets me to kill them."

Ontari shifted uneasily, wincing. She gripped Klark harder. "It's not like that." Ontari said. "I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that." Clarke froze, eyes narrowed. Ontari took a breath before speaking again, breathing by Clark's right ear, sending a delighted shiver through Clarke, despite the dread coming off the other woman, "I need to speak with you privately. It's really important." Clarke pulled away and looked into Ontari's deep brown eyes. There was no jest or room for taking this lightly. Clarke nodded, eyes narrowed. Alright. So she was going to need to speak with Ontari in a very private section of the building. She nodded, laying her hands over Ontari's shoulders and squeezing them gently before she turned around towards the rest of the inhabitants of the building, sitting on the cots or standing.

"Flynt," She spoke to the large, bearded man who now stood at a ready, "I need you to watch out for the rest of the wounded, make sure that they have as much bandages and aloe as needed and make sure that it's all applied to everyone." Flynt bowed his head respectfully. "Ain, Wanheda."

Clarke, taking hold of Ontari's left hand in her right one and squeezed Ontari's hand, the lighter-haired woman brought Ontari to the backroom, their skin itching with heat as soon as they came near the many stone alters with the stone bowls, filled with burning coals, plus the lit torches in the pedestals affixed to the wall. The flames flickered as Clarke pulled Ontari into the room, closing the door behind her, facing the other woman. "Ontari," Clarke started, concern touching her and she could only think of one thing. One thing that made her heart jump in fear. "Does your mother know?"

Ontari shook her head. "No. No. It's alright. Mother doesn't know about what we've been doing. That's not it." Clarke breathed out, smiling. "Okay." She stepped close, bringing her hands up to cup Ontari's face between them, pressing her forehead against Ontari's, "What's wrong? You're more tense than you've been in a while."

Ontari held Klark close. She wanted to kiss her and just push the other woman against the wall and make love to her, even with the threat of one of the children possibly walking in on them, but stopped herself. Klark had to know what her mother was planning. Now wasn't the time for sex. Even if they weren't in a healing center that had children in it, now was not the time or the place. Klark needed to know what Nia was planning. She had to know about the Mountain Man.

"Klark," Ontari sighed sadly, putting her hands gently on Klark's hips, carefully pushing the other woman back a little, startling Klark. Ontari's eyes met Klark's confused, beautiful blue ones. "Klark, we _have_ to talk, now." Klark stepped back, nodding, eyebrows narrowing. Ontari slowly removed her hands from Klark's waist and stepped back, taking a breath.

Clarke watched as Ontari maintained a somber expression and now, Clarke really _did_ feel uneasy. What was going on here? Ontari had said that Nia hadn't discovered their plot. She hadn't discovered that there was a plot to overthrow her yet. So what was it that Ontari needed to speak with her about? What could be so wrong? There were no attacks from bandits or bears that she had heard about recently. No current battles with other villages. So what was wrong?

Clarke could usually tell when there was something wrong when it came to Ontari. In the few months of really trying to get to know the other woman, she was usually pretty good at reading the Azgeda born warrior. This _was_ one of those times, but what Clarke wasn't, was a mind reader. Clarke watched with interest and unease as Ontari shifted, trying to think of how to say what she was about to say. In all her time of knowing Ontari, Clarke had found that the other woman was a discovery. And it was difficult not to make comparisons between Ontari and Clarke's two previous lovers, no matter how much Clarke would rather not let her mind stray towards the two of _them_. Ontari didn't mince words about the plans she came up with. She wasn't interested in lectures like Lexa was. She said things delicately unlike Anya, but made sure that all the political answers were given. She did not touch nearly as roughly as Anya did. Nor did she touch her like she thought that Clarke was made of glass like Lexa had.

The sex had been a very strange change. Lexa always had handled her like she was afraid that Clarke would shatter at any second. Anya knew what Clarke could take and what she couldn't. Knew how rough she liked it and knew exactly what was too much. Ontari had liked being a bit rough, but always was careful about going too far until Clarke gave her permission. Ontari was nothing like either Anya or Lexa when it came to sex. Lexa had been too afraid to be anything but delicate and Anya was extremely dominant and knew when to take control. Ontari was somewhere between that. Dominant, in control, rough, when she knew Clarke wanted her to be, but always making sure that that was exactly what Clarke was ready for.

Then there was how Ontari acted around the kids. Lexa had always kept a straight face around children. The poor nightbloods that would grow to eventually kill each other, Lexa had been nothing but professional and without any humor or showing any signs of being in any way relaxed. This was where there was a visible comparison. Anya, while rough and strict about training, had regularly joked around with her Second, Tris. It probably helped since the Second in question was her little sister. But Clarke had seen Anya around other children, and she had acted the same way. It had been one of the things that at the time had made Clarke certain that Anya would make a good parent. It hurt all the more to think that she had thought that at one time.

Ontari, while strict, was not unkind, nor did she hold any emotions back when speaking the children. She didn't act aloof or cold around them. Almost not professionally, to the point of some children almost forgetting that they were speaking to the heir of the Ice Queen.

In the now near fully heated room of the healing center, Clarke normally wouldn't have felt such dread, but Ontari lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting Clarke's. "Clarke, my mother…she's going to find a way to get you to do what she wants this time. She has someone that she's going to use against you." Clarke took a step back, trying to maintain an expression of calm. What was Ontari talking about? Nia always used people against her. The twenty-six. Her people in the Trikru territory. She always did. Why would now be any different?

Seeing Clarke's confusion, Ontari knew she had to tell Clarke the rest. She sighed out a name that made Clarke freeze, "Karl Emerson. Karl Emerson, the last Mountain Man is here. He's in the dungeons. Mother put him there for you to torture to death as a reward for your services." Ontari watched the other young woman. Klark looked like she was having a hard time processing what she had just heard from her eventual Entarg. "I…what? How?" Klark asked, staring up at Ontari now with shock in her eyes. "How is that even…? How did he even _get_ here?!" Ontari was about to admit that she didn't know (and she had no idea how her mother could have found him), when heard Klark's breath shortening and Ontari hissed, stepping closer, knowing she might have to steady the other young woman's body, in case Klark needed to sit down, assaulted by memories.

She kept her hands from grabbing at Klark but waited for the other's reaction, wanting to know what to do. Ontari tried to ignore her own heart racing, but awaited any reaction that might come. Klark finally breathed out harshly and grabbed onto Ontari's right wrist with her left hand and looked into the black-haired Azgeda woman's eyes. "Emerson," Klark said, voice dark, eyes clouded over with what Ontari suspected was a terrible memory the light-haired warrior was haunted by. "He's here? Alive?" Ontari nodded, wincing at how Klark was gasping in pain. She was not going to lie to Klark. But she had the distinct impression that Klark knowing this wasn't good.

"Ain," Ontari answered, "He's here. And he's alive."

Klark's teeth grinded together and husky words passed through her lips, the words making Ontari's heart clench with dread that she knew had been coming, as a spark of darkness flickered in her usually bright blue eyes. "If he's here, alive and it really is him, he won't be alive for long."

 **Author's note:**

 **Kataten: In Sankru, that means "Branwada," in Trikru, in English, "Idiot."**

 **Entarg: In Azgeda language, that means "homon" for Trikru language which is respective other like a spouse or boyfriend or girlfriend.**

 **Hasy: The Azgeda vulgar word for "fuck."**

 **Hok: Azgeda word for Dog**

 **Naythaan: Nathan**

 **Hapah: Harper**

 **So, time to rant. No restraint here, folks. My restraint went right out the airlock with all of the of age Ark criminals. Too soon?**

 **About the abusers of Clarke that are the 100 and the Sky People. Where do I start? When you're expected to help and protect people that keep treating you horribly and differently from the way they treat everyone else? That's abuse. That is flat out abuse. By this point, why do we care at all why any of the 100 and Sky people besides Clarke, Raven, Monty and Harper survive? I sure don't.**

 **Clarke is used as a scapegoat for so much, it's almost like no one else was responsible for the wars that have happened. It's almost like the Mountain Men didn't cause any problems or like Jasper** _ **didn't**_ **set off the war between the 100 and the Grounders by shooting at the Grounders in the trees. Or like Bellamy** _ **didn't**_ **kill those 300 people in their sleep and didn't try to kill of a village for just "being in the way and not moving." Or like he didn't get 150 people killed when he threw Raven's radio into the river. It's almost like Clarke isn't trying to save humanity in long-term.**

 **Here's the giant punch line of this series. Clarke is desperately trying to protect her people. People who use her as a scapegoat for all their problems. You know, even though she's just trying to keep them alive. Remind me again, why we care at all about them?**

 **Because last time I checked, for the 100 and the Sky People it's "us we care about and only us." Last time I checked, Miller and Jasper and the others were willing to ignore the warning signs all over the place in the mountain just for cake and a warm bed. Please never mind that a great deal of their people were outside of the mountain and they didn't know where they were. But that was okay, right? As long as they got their cake and a warm bed and didn't have to worry about the Grounders and Jasper got the attention of cute girl, why would they care about anyone else's problems?**

 **And why would they be in any way grateful to spoilsport Clarke who is trying to ruin their fun by keeping them safe? Being grateful to Clarke, you know, the one that's kept you alive for months and months? That's bizarre, really. That's why I don't think I had Miller's character wrong here at all. I think he would react** _ **exactly**_ **like this if it meant that he didn't have to do anything.**

 **And don't get me** _ **started**_ **on that bitch, Abby. Just don't. Oh yeah, Abby, you're such a good mom that you only try to be Clarke's mother when you want to disregard her power and feel threatened by Clarke's authority.**

 **Here's the 100's rap sheet:**

 _ **Bellamy**_ **: Season 3: "You're not in charge and that's a good thing. When you're in charge it ends with death." Spoken by a man who killed 150 people to save his own ass by throwing away Raven's radio and kills 300 people with Pike all for revenge. Oh, and he manipulates Clarke's friendship and handcuffs her and tries to give her to Pike, who likely would have killed her. And oh yeah, Bellboy tried to kill a whole village with children and helpless people just because they wouldn't move. Where's the excuse again?**

 **Like I've said before, you know a Bellamy somewhere in your life. He's the one that can never take responsibility for his actions. He's the one that grabs you roughly or pushes you around in anger and claims that it's** _ **your**_ **fault for** _ **provoking**_ **him. He's the one who manipulates you into staying with him.**

 **He's the one who isolates you from your friends and claims that he's doing it for your own good or that no one will love you like he does. He's the epitome of a toxic man.**

 _ **Octavia:**_ **Season 1: "I was the one that saved Finn. But whatever you need to tell yourself that helps you sleep at night." Lady, Finn was dying and Lincoln wasn't giving up the medicine for him and you've known Lincoln, for what? A couple of days? Finn's actually your friend by this point. You've known him for** _ **months.**_

 **Octavia says "it's not good enough" but she doesn't have any place to judge. She would likely have gotten everyone killed in the first couple of weeks if she had been leader of anyone. Her solution most likely? Just charge right in because apparently that's how you show you're strong. Yeah. Charge right in, Octavia. And get everyone killed. Slow clap. Real smart.**

 **Oh yeah, and season 4? When she has control? She almost gets all of humanity killed by trying to give the bunker to "all people." Again, that** _ **does**_ **NOT WORK. A limited sized bunker, is a limited sized bunker. No matter how many people you WANT to get in there, it's still a limited sized bunker.**

 **Congratulations, Octavia, you almost got all of humanity killed, if Clarke hadn't stepped in. And CLARKE made sure that humanity would survive long-term by making sure the people with the medical training, like the Sky people got the bunker. Yeah, Octavia, real smart. You make a really, really good leader. NOT. Even slower clapping.**

 **Octavia is kind of delusional. You can want to give life to ALL people, but no matter how much you want to do that, there are only so many people you can put in a LIMITED. SPACIAL. BUNKER.**

 **Can someone please explain space, feet, lack of supplies and meters to Octavia? I don't think she's mentally capable of understanding what limited space and limited supply means. Idealism only works if you have the resources to be ideal. And they sure as hell did not at the time of season 4. Funny how Octavia just forgets that. Guess who didn't. Clarke didn't.**

 **Octavia Blake: One of the biggest hypocrites in the whole series. What, she suddenly cares about all of humanity or about villages blowing up when she's not literally being an assassin and killing everyone from here to next Sunday?**

 **The Blake siblings don't react too well when they suffer loss, do they? After Gina, Bellamy kills 300 people and tries to get rid of a peaceful village and Octavia slaughters any Grounder and Sky person she can get her hands on when she loses Lincoln. Guess who didn't do any of that, just tried to save humanity when the radiation hit even though she's lost everyone that treats her well. I'll give you a hint, it's someone that's treated badly by both the fandom and by most of the remaining characters. That's right, Clarke fucking Griffin.**

 _ **Jasper:**_ **Season 2: "The one who's putting us in danger right now, is you." That's right, Jasper said that in the mountain when Clarke was trying to protect them. Clarke, who has been literally doing nothing but making sure that they're safe and are provided for since they came down, and who killed 300 Grounders for them, and is for legitimate reason, concerned about what the Mountain Men might want from them, is the one that's putting the 100 in danger, because she's not letting them have** _ **fun**_ **and not have to** _ **think**_ **too much.**

 **And oh yes, do I need to remind everyone of one little unpleasant thing about Jasper? Not only was he the one that started the war between the Grounders and the 100 in the first place by opening fire on the archers at the bridge, but do you remember how he treated Monty after being considered a "hero?" He treated Monty like he was less than he was. Even if he didn't mean it, that was seriously disgusting to do. To someone who as far as I can tell was basically Jasper's brother.**

 **And remember what he called Harper? He called her, and I quote, "Low hanging fruit." Yeah, that's right. One of the most harmless and gentlest girls in the series, was called "low hanging fruit" by the boy we're supposed to feel bad for and like.**

 **Again, I'm having a hard time understanding here, why do we care so much about what happens to Jasper? I think he deserves help like anyone else with PTSD, but let's just acknowledge please that he's a shitty person. Way before the PTSD got worse and worse, he was a shitty person.**

 **Way before he lost Maya, he was a shitty person.**

 **He treated his best friend and brother like shit just because he happened to get lucky shooting at Grounders and in doing so started a war. And referred to Harper, a friend and one of the nicest girls as "low hanging fruit." And I feel like I need to bring this up again, he literally will only be interested in anything if he gets the attention of a cute girl. Why are we defending this piece of shit? Him being white and having a dick does not erase what kind of person he is, even before he lost Maya or the PTSD worsened.**

 **And on what I said about Miller, I meant it. Aside from being a shooter in the first season, what use was Miller at all? What grounds does he have to judge Clarke about not making them feel safe in the mountain? Again, this guy seems to only care about himself as long as he's taken care of.**

 **These are not healthy friends to have. These aren't even "friends." These are** _ **toxic people.**_

 **These people are dangerous for your mental health to be with.**

 **People like this? For your own mental health, walk away.**


	10. The beginning of Wanheda's Defiance

**Trigger warnings for graphic violence and branding of people, burning, mentions of attempted rape and someone getting triggered from the smell of burnt flesh. Multiple decapitations.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 10: The beginning of Wanheda's Defiance:**

 **Docks of the Floukru: The Coast of Maine:**

Leksa, Onya and Wels were the first three to reach the wooden docks lining the Floukru's territory. Leksa was staring hard at the frightened and befuddled merchant who had not reported the sighting of the Azgeda soldiers immediately. "You saw three Azgeda warriors in your territory and you didn't think that was strange?" His Heda demanded. The scraggly bearded man lowered his head, looking frightened. The now properly cowed man, Fupan, originally from Sankru, who had instantly strutted around with his offerings of beautiful silks and spices as soon as he had seen the Heda herself and her army coming to the Floukru's gates, had quickly lost his confidence when the Commander had demanded to know why he hadn't reported the sightings of Azgeda to his tribe's leader, Luna, as soon as he had seen them come ashore, was as pale as a dead fish.

It was just his luck that Heda remembered that he was always at the main gates, the first one to greet any who had coin in their pockets or purse. And so naturally, he would have been there that day when everyone was out and about, trading and buying. And he would have seen the whole thing of Klark being taken by the Azgeda. And he hadn't reported it. It was only because Leksa remembered that he always was by the gates and greeted all with something to offer, in hopes of gaining money that she knew at all that he had been a witness who had not come forward. When and enemy or even just someone within the Coalition committed an action that was clearly an act of war, it was punishable by death. This man had not reported when he had seen the intended Hedatu of Heda herself and of Heda's prize Trikru general being stolen from Floukru lands. Were it not for the fact that Leksa knew that she, Onya and her army had to get on the boat and now, she would have given this coward the slowest death he deserved.

"I-I…Heda, forgive. I…..they said they were here on business. They said that it was a message for Heda. I had no idea they were sent to take Wanheda to their kwin." Leksa shook her head. "How could you not suspect that?" She didn't know how Onya wasn't reaching for her sword, but apparently the older was able to keep a calm façade for now, "You knew what obtaining Wanheda would mean for the Az kwin. Yet you did not go to Luna and immediately tell her of what you saw? There is only one reason why I haven't executed you for treason, Fupan kom Sankru, is because I have a more pressing matter to attend to. Be pleased that you are living to see the next day. If I didn't need to be off to the Azgeda's territory as soon as possible I would have you tied to a tree by now."

Fupan shuddered, but nodded, bowing his head. "Sha. Mochof, Heda."

Leksa barely suppressed a snort of disgust and swept away from the weak man, Onya in tow. "If you had so much as given the order," Onya said quietly and Leksa noticed, with a slight eagerness, "I would take the worthless merchant's head for putting Klark in danger." Leksa sighed. Of course Onya wanted to spill blood. She had only heard that the Azgeda most likely had their beloved Klark. Onya was very likely distraught and ready to wreak havoc on any that so much as looked at her wrong by now. Had Fupan been from the Podakru tribe, Leksa wasn't sure Onya wouldn't have killed him brutally, given her family's history with the tribe, and the added fuel of Klark being in danger because he didn't report the sighting sooner. It would just be one more Podakru person putting someone Onya loved in danger. "That won't help us." The Commander shushed her once Fos. "The less questions we have our way, the better. We won't be helping Klark by killing someone who isn't Azgeda and isn't the one currently holding her captive. We need to be on that ship now."

Onya said nothing else, as they neared the docks where Wels, Reivon, Abi and the other Skaikru that had come with them-in the end, Munroh, Foks and Sterlyng had practically forced Abi to let her come along, were waiting, watching for the two Trikru women's approach. The boat that they were meant to take, the _Raka Tofja,_ in Floukru language, when translated to Gonasleng, meant the "Great Stallion," a massive, wide, well-crafted ship of polished black wood, with humungous, strong, white sails, all marked with the blue Floukru symbol in the middle, each side and inch of the ship manned by strong looking Floukru sailors, pulling up the thick ropes of the anchors, dragging the huge anchors over the edge of the boat, dumping them into the sea, holding the boat to the edge of the docks, would strike fear even in the strongest Azgeda warrior.

As soon as the boat rocked to and fro, signaling that it was weighed down properly, a long slab of wood slid out from the boat's port bow, its front slapping down onto the dock's end before the group, making the Skaikru turn from Onya and Leksa, to look at the sight before them, gaping. The wooden length that had been pushed out by the crew onto the deck, which was a long walkway, was wide. Wide enough to let at least four people at a time walk along it onto the boat. At the head of the boat was a slim, dark-haired man in his early forties with a greying beard and short, grey beard. Leksa knew him well.

Kint kom Trikru. Had lost much in battle. His brother. His father. Eventually his own young son and daughter who had trained their whole lives to be warriors. After Kint's wife left him, insisting that his pressure on their children to become strong warriors had been what led them to their deaths, Kint had left the Trikru in search of peace and had come to the Floukru. Leksa had been privy to many of Kint's ship's trips to delivering important goods to the Azgeda, even when she didn't wish to give them anything.

"Kint," She acknowledged, forcing the fear over Klark back into her gut, not allowing it to show on her face or in her voice. "I am pleased to see you are in good health. I wouldn't have anyone but you take us to the Azgeda ports." The blue-eyed once warrior let out a full-bellied laugh as his Heda, Onya and their horses were the first to go up onto the ship. There were stables built inside every ship like the Great Stallion. All ships like the Great Stallion were built for warfare when needed. Though the Floukru were a peaceful people, as they were part of the Coalition, when Leksa needed them, they were to transport herself, her troops and their horses to the desired location of the battles. It wasn't just across the sea to the Azgeda. It was to get to the other side of the land they were on, where going by horse would take longer. Like to the tribe furthest from the Trikru, besides the Azgeda, the Yujleda.

This would be no different.

Leksa, Onya and their horses got on board. Wels, Reivon and Abi followed, trailed after soon by other Trikru soldiers with their horses and then a group of Skaikru. The Skaikru and the Trikru were all on the boat now and the walkway was pulled back from the docks and carried back into the ship, dropped onto the wooden deck hard, causing vibrations run up everyone's legs.

As some of the Skaikru uneasily shook from the vibrations, Leksa gave the reins of her horse to Onya and walked over to Kint. "You know where to take us. The harbor of the Azgeda. A month's voyage from here. Begin to man the sails."

"Sha." Kint obliged, gesturing roughly to his shipmates and they began hurriedly pulling up the thick ropes as the last of the army, from Trikru warriors to Skaikru warriors walked onto the deck of the ship. The ropes piled up on the deck, the anchors being dropped down next to the piled up coils and Kint went up the wooden stairs of the ship's deck to the helm, grabbing the wooden knobs along the wheel, beginning to turn it as the sails were drawn out by the men and women letting the ropes loose and allowing the wind to hit the sails.

Onya looked at the grim expression on her once Second's face. "Klark will be alright." Onya said, hoping that she was right, hoping to all the gods, goddesses and spirits that watched over them that she was right. "Klark won't die. She can survive anything." Leksa sighed, smiling morosely. "I truly hope you are right, Onya." She added, green eyes darkening, "If Klark has been harmed-" "We'll bleed the Az kwin and all her people dry." Onya growled, her voice deathly quiet, dark eyes narrowed, an edge of her teeth showing in her snarl, "I'll spill their blood myself if even one hair on Klark's head has been harmed."

Leksa nodded, appreciative of Onya's bloodlust for once. She had given mercy to the Azgeda once before after Kostia's death, for the sake of peace. She would not do it again. She would not risk Klark.

Five of the Sky people, Foks, Munroh, Sterlyng, Jones and Hapah ran to the port bow, looking over into the ocean, Sterling and Hapah's excited faces in the Commander and Onya's views as they watched them. The Commander looked at Onya. "They've never been near the water?" Onya shook her head. "I don't think so." Onya looked back at the shocked four who were fixated by the vast sea. Were the situation any different and Klark was safe here with the two of them, she and Leksa would have found amusement with the goufas' amazement. But they had to stay concentrated on rescuing Klark. The sounds of hoof steps against the deck made the floor vibrate as the servants escorted all the horses to the stalls onboard the ship.

The vast deck of the vessel rocked back and forward as it was pushed away from the docks, the anchors being pulled back up. Onya moved to the front of the ship, inches from where Foks, Munroh, Sterlyng, Jones and Hapah were, all five of them moving back from her, watching her cautiously. Onya didn't acknowledge them at all as she peered over the bow at the seemingly endless sea. Somewhere, out there, in the Azgeda, Klark was being held captive. Nia wouldn't have let Klark get far from her territory. She wouldn't allow such a commodity like Wanheda herself out of her sight for long, so she would have most likely kept her close to her own kingdom. Which meant they probably wouldn't have to search the Azgeda kingdom long before they eventually found Klark, as long as they stayed close to the Ice Queen's palace.

Onya looked over at the rest of the Skaikru. Wels was checking Reivon ever so often, an odd look of protectiveness flitting over his hardened features. Reivon was holding the bag of bombs close, looking at the ship, nervous. Onya was guessing the sky girl was nervous about how the boat was rocking. It was likely the dark skinned girl would experience the unforgettable and horrid experience of becoming sick at sea. Onya tried not to smirk. This was going to prove to be an interesting voyage at best. Onya inspected the rest of the Skaikru. Oktevia, the wretch that hadn't tried to understand Klark. Abi, the woman who was here now, yet was responsible for her own homon's death and Klark being imprisoned and sent down to Earth, putting her in danger of Trikru who hadn't yet been ordered by Heda to leave them be. She glanced over at Wels, wondering what it was the young man had been talking about when it came to the mountain and Milla. Onya had to say that she was grateful that they had to focus on the trip. And on rescuing Klark. Otherwise Onya's thoughts would be drifting towards a more bloodthirsty path. How Klark put up with any of these people was beyond her. Milla was such a treacherous young man. Had he been of the Trikru, he would have been beaten till he learned to obey, or would have been exiled for abandoning his leader to die.

But she didn't have time to focus on this. They had a torturous month before they would reach the Azgeda's land. She could find out what the Sky boy had done between now and then. She could decide his fate after they had rescued Klark. She wanted to know what Klark thought of such disobedience. Though she knew that Klark would surely excuse such treachery and plead for his safety.

A question sparked in Onya's mind and she turned to her Heda, mind not quiet at all. "Heda," She began, her anger for once gone in her voice, only filled with confusion now, "Aren't there other boats that have special engines that work quicker?"

"I asked about those," Leksa said, eyes narrowing in thought. "It seems the Azgeda thought ahead of us. They took all the boats with those engines. They must have wanted to get Klark to the Ice Nation as quickly as possible." Onya growled. The Azgeda had truly thought of everything. The Floukru had invented boats and had put engines in them. Those got from the Floukru ports to Azgeda territory in weeks instead of a whole month. Two and a half weeks at the most. The thought made Onya seethe. Weeks or a month, Klark had been knocked out and forced into a boat with the Azgeda for days and days. It made her blood boil.

"She was alone with them for weeks, Leksa." Onya snarled, fury taking ahold of her as she thought of Klark captive with those people. About what they might have done to her or tried to do to her. Leksa glowered, anger coursing through her, though she hid it better. "Sha." The commander answered, "She was. The Az kwin," She growled, "Will not allow anything to happen to her prize. If Klark is still alive, she won't allow harm to come to her. Not if she wants Klark to stay without trying to escape."

Onya growled, "She better not have." Leksa nodded in agreement. She could hardly keep her rage at bay any more than her once mentor could. The thought of Klark alone with those people for even a few days, let alone a few months made everything inside her squirm with repulsion and dread. It made her want to take back her decision five years ago when she had spared the Ice Nation her wrath after Kostia's murder. She had already lost Kostia. The thought of losing Klark the same way was not an option. That thought made a fist close around Leksa's chest. She and Onya had already lost her. Even if it wasn't the way they were trying to prevent, would Klark ever wish to be with them again? Could she ever learn to forgive the two of them?

Onya, perhaps. It was slim, but perhaps. After all, Onya had gone back to the Mountain against orders and had gone back in with Linkin. But her? Would Klark ever forgive _her?_ Leksa breathed out, turning her head, staring at the Skaikru who were exploring the ship, looking all around with wonder all over their shocked faces.

She had left _them,_ Klark's people. And she hadn't come back. Could Klark ever forgive her?

"You have that look, _Kanla,"_ Onya said, using the endearing name that Onya had used to call her Seken before Leksa had ascended. Leksa turned and glared at the smirking Onya, though the older woman's eyes lacked the usual wild mirth, for understandable reasons. "What is on your mind, Heda?"

Leksa sighed, wishing that she didn't appreciate being called "Kanla," which meant "wolf," a name Onya had given her once Seken because of how quickly Leksa could move in comparison to the other natblidas she trained with. But she did appreciate it. She appreciated her once Fos just being here, even if Onya had personal reasons too. With Gostos dead, Luna needing to govern her own tribe, the Flourku and Indra and Titus back in Polis, overlooking everything, Onya's presence made this endeavor much more bearable than if she were going to Azgeda to rescue Klark alone.

Leksa was about to speak when a voice called out from the opening leading to the deck, from the wooden walkway, "Heda!" Leksa whirled around, her attention on the young boy of sixteen with chopped short, thick hair and dark skin. The light blue Floukru tattoo was grounded into the skin of his right bare shoulder. His big, brown eyes locked on the Commander as several of Leksa's guards unsheathed their swords, ready to defend their Heda from a possible attack, but Leksa commanded them to stop immediately. The boy was unarmed from what Leksa could observe and he was looking at her desperately like he needed to say something.

"Who are you?" Leksa demanded as the boy stayed on the walkway, between the doorway of the wooden entrance to the ship's deck. The boy gasped out, as it seemed he had run here. "Forgive me, Heda," The boy responded, speaking quickly in Floudasleng, Leksa recognizing what he said immediately, "I am Apoharo kom Floukru. I witnessed the Azgeda seven days ago. They had a tek controlled ship. They came ashore. They had chains. When they came back from where they had gone," The boy looked nervous now, "There were more Azgeda with them. And they had a prisoner. A man. They had him in the chains. The man was gangly and had brown hair. He was weak looking with very dirty clothes. I heard some of the Azgeda speaking. They said they needed him. That the queen wanted him alive."

Leksa narrowed her gaze, going over what she had just heard. This man that had supposedly been captured by the Azgeda. He was needed? By the Ice Queen? Why?

"Did you hear why?" The Commander asked, eyeing the boy. Apoharo shook his head. "No, Heda. Just that it involved Wanheda. One of them said that they needed him for something the queen wanted from Wanheda."

Leksa's heart clenched, a chill going through her. The man the boy was speaking of, who was he? Why was he needed?

"Is there anything else?" She asked. The boy shook his head, looking nervous.

The Commander nodded. "Thank you, Apoharo kom Floukru. You have done a great service. Go back to your people now." Apoharo nodded, bowing. "Heda." He said and turned and left down the walkway.

The Commander turned her attention to Kint, all her fear and thoughts running wild being restrained. "We need to leave," She ordered in Trigedasleng, "Now. No more hesitation. We will leave now." "Sha, Heda," Kint answered, pausing for a moment and his eyes went to the commander and said, "Heda? I was here when the Azgeda took the man to their ship. I did not hear what Apoharo said, but I heard them call him something. A name. I do not know what the man's name means or why the queen wanted him. They called him Emerson."

Leksa almost reached for her sword when she heard that name. There were hundreds of horrified gasps around her. There was a growl behind her and she knew that Onya recognized the name too. Emerson. Karl Emerson. The man that had tortured Klark with the information of how her people were being used. The man responsible for ending her and Onya's relationship with Klark. He had been the one to offer her that wretched deal. And had had that damned grin on his face the whole time when Klark had realized what her lover had done. If there was a way she could let him taste all the tortures in all of the 12 tribes for what he had done, she would do it in a second.

"Emerson," Onya snarled, "The queen has him? Why? Why does she have him?" It took a moment for Leksa to realize, but it strangely made sense. There had been recent sightings of Klark in Azgeda territories, from spies. So the Ice Queen didn't seem to intend to kill her any time soon. And Leksa knew that Klark would never join the Ice Queen. Not willingly. So had the Ice Queen done something else besides torture to persuade Klark to her side?

"She's offering Emerson to Klark to get her to kill him. If she gives Emerson to Klark to kill him," Leksa said, summing it up, horror dawning on her, "She'll have Klark's loyalty." Onya hissed, eyes darkening with realization. "If she gives Klark permission to take her revenge, Klark will side with her." Leksa turned on Kint. "Have this ship leave the bay. Now."

Kint nodded, moving instantly. "Sha, Heda." He called out his orders to his crew and they moved faster.

A confused Abi spoke, seemingly to no one. "Why would the Ice Queen have Emerson? What does she gain by having Carl Emerson? I don't understand."

Leksa sighed. No. She supposed Abi would _not_ understand why the Ice Queen had taken Emerson. She knew well that the Skaikru were not foreign at all to the concept of revenge. But Abi didn't know just how deceitful the Ice Queen was. She didn't know what kinds of lengths the queen would go to make sure things turned in her favor.

She turned to Abi and said, in a voice as calm as she could, "This _does_ give us reason to believe that Klark is alive. There would be no reason for the Ice Queen to be capturing him if she wasn't." Abi looked at the Commander, startled. "What?" She asked, clearly not understanding.

"Why would the Azgeda having Clarke have anything to do with why they have Emerson?" Wels asked stepping close, Hapah and Reivon at his back, both of their faces contorting in disgust at the name that Wells had just uttered. "Because," Onya answered before Leksa could as the vessel they were on began to move away from the docks, startled gasps of the Skaikru accompanying the movement, the Trikru woman's voice cloaked in foreboding, "Emerson is a bargaining tool. If Klark is allowed to kill him for revenge, then that gives Klark motivation to help the Ice Queen willingly."

"What?" Reivon snorted, horrified, looking angry. "There's no way. Clarke would never work with the Ice Queen. Sure, she'd kill Emerson and I hope it's really slow. Hope she stabs him enough for all of us." Wels, Sterlying, Foks, Hapah and Munroh were nodding behind her in agreement. "But she'd never work with the Ice Queen. Not if the Ice Queen's threatening us." Wels nodded, also looking confident. Leksa sighed, turning to Onya as the ship started heading out to sea. She truly hoped that that second part of what Reivon had said was true.

But then again, Leksa reminded herself, after what she had done, hadn't she given Klark enough reason to believe _any_ lie the Ice Queen told Klark about her?

 **Azgeda Territory: Norway:**

 **Four months ago:**

 _Ontari watched as Klark came into the room. Ontari's eyes followed Klark across the courtroom. Klark kept her head leveled so it looked like she was looking at the tables where some of the twenty-six were. But Ontari, even without seeing Klark shifting her gaze to where she was sitting, could feel Klark's gaze burning into her. The accusation. The anger. The distrust. Every single emotion was a punch, a blade. Ontari wanted to look away, but couldn't. Klark wanted her to know just how low she found her, and Ontari would not deny her that. After everything she had been through, Klark had the right to express her anger._

 _Klark sat down at one of the tables, next to Martin, Fynly, West, Frank who was looking at an Azgeda warrior boy about Frank's age, Kozarr strangely, Caysi, who was patched up, likely from her injuries in training, Sabyne, Bayley and Paul. Ontari could almost feel when Klark turned, her dark gaze still on her. The anger in them seemed unimaginable. Ontari had only seen anger like that from her victims or enemies. Not from allies or even the friends that she had and certainly not the woman she had hoped to marry._

 _Besides the hustling and bustling around the capital of Azgeda and the kingdom, it was mainly silent an uneventful in Azgeda, save for some Seconds training together in the courtyard at the front of the Az Kwin's palace, when both Seconds came running into the massive courtroom, bowing their heads when the doors were barged open and the queen saw them._

" _Our kwin!" One of the seconds exclaimed, eyes wide and excited when he faced the room, not even seeming to notice how Saktar, Mathias and the other guards were reaching for their weapons. Ontari herself had jumped out of her throne, on guard, eyes jumping to the table where Klark and the twenty-six sat. "It's the army you sent out before. General Fusak has returned with all his warriors and captains."_

 _There were gasps and gathering of people around the court. Beyond the now widening doors, many footsteps could be heard behind the Second that had moved out of the way, allowing the first general and all of the bloodstained followers to file in._

 _Those that had been sitting in the courtroom had moved back as well, giving those that were approaching room. Klark had backed up till she was nearly at the stairs leading up to the throne. Ontari watched her the whole time._

 _Clarke stood back, near the edge of the stairs, held in her breath harshly as the generals and their soldiers came stalking back into the main court, regarding queen Nia as they brought the decapitated heads of several soldiers. Behind them, Clarke's heart almost leapt when her eyes found Parker, Glenn, Christopher, Beryl and Cameron slowly walking in behind the mass, only feeling her heart fall when she noticed the dark blood covering all five of the young warriors in training. Glenn was slick from feet to knees in blood. There were only small flecks of blood on his shoulders and neck. Parker, Christopher, Beryl and Cameron were absolutely covered in it. She was guessing that Glenn's archery skills were what spared him most of the splatters of blood. Her eyes found what Glenn and Beryl were holding between their bloodstained hands and she almost whimpered in horror._

 _A blood stained barrel. With a wooden pole through it. The barrel was being held by Glenn and Beryl. Beryl to the left of the barrel and Glenn to the right of the barrel. It was then Clarke noticed that everyone was carrying a few barrels. Christopher and Parker were carrying a bloody barrel between them and Cameron and another warrior were doing the same. The rows of grim-faced warriors came into the courtroom, all of them carrying these blood touched barrels, holding the wooden and steel bars holding up the barrels._

 _Clarke watched uneasily as the wooden lids capped over the barrels, pulling them off. She wasn't sure she wanted to see what was in those barrels. The choice was taken out of her hands when one by one, each soldier, including Parker and Cameron and Beryl kicked the barrels over, piles and piles of cold snow spilled out like an avalanche from the barrels, and to Clarke's horror, so did several other round objects, covered with blood, brown and lighter threads of hair covering them._

 _Clarke's mouth dropped, realizing almost immediately what these things were._

 _Heads. Human heads. She didn't have a very good look at them, but they were clearly human heads. And from the size of some of them, to Clarke's disgust, she realized they couldn't belong to someone that old. Some of those heads had to have belonged to very young villagers._

 _It was then that she realized, beyond their masses of fur keeping them warm and their various pieces of mismatched armor, that each of the Azgeda warriors were holding barrels between them, and it was safe to say these barrels were too carrying decapitated heads in their depths. One by one, each of the warriors and generals dropped the barrels, letting out the contents within said barrels, the snow and the severed heads at the bottom of the stone pedestal of steps leading to Queen Nia and Ontari's thrones. From where she stood, up against the wall to the right of the podium where Nia and Ontari sat, Clarke, like everyone else in the room was transfixed as all of the warriors dropped the heads down onto the floor in a grotesque pile, showing off their accomplishment. And much to Clarke's growing dread, and it seemed to the other twenty-six's dread as she heard their gasps in reaction when they saw the five that had been sent out on this mission, Parker, Christopher, Glenn, Beryl and Cameron had much to show off too._

 _Beryl was the first to pick up one of the heads and drop her decapitated prize down into the pile with some of the other heads and the piles of snow. Clarke realized that they must have been identifying which of these heads, they personally had removed. Clarke felt bile in her throat rise. Beryl bowed her head to Nia. "My kwin." She said dutifully, before she turned and walked back to the line of soldiers, her head turning slightly to the right, dark brown eyes never leaving Clarke's stiff figure. Even from where she was standing, feeling like she could faint at any second, Clarke could see Beryl's silent plea, the plea sad and pitiful despite the fierce mask covering Beryl's lower jaw and cheeks and despite the heavy brown and white fur covering her body and the blood splattered onto her. 'Don't hate me. Please.'_

 _Clarke's lower jaw tensed, her whole body aching at what Beryl was forced to do to stay alive and keep the others alive. Following Beryl's departure from the end of Nia and Ontari's podium, were Cameron and Parker. They each lowered their heads "respectfully" and brought a head over and dropped it onto the pile. The head Cameron had chosen had longer, wispy hair and Parker's was nearly bald. Both faces of the decapitated heads were etched in with pain and shock. Cameron's own eyes, Clarke could see, were riddled with grief over what she had done. But Cameron maintained a convincing façade as she looked up at the queen, nodding her head. "My kwin." She said, turning back around and Parker did the same._

 _Glenn walked up, nearly empty quiver hanging from his slim back, both of his bows tied to the other side of his back and he brought a head from the slush of snow and dropped the head down in the growing pile, acknowledging the queen before walking back to the group. Then came Christopher. Clarke watched, trying not to shudder. Out of all five of them, she knew that Cameron, Beryl and Christopher would be the three the most visibly emotionally affected by it. Parker was no doubt angry over all of it, but she at least could function. That Clarke knew for sure. Glenn was too levelheaded not to be able to function well, even if his head was swarmed by demons of what he had done. But the other three would be in destructive moods for a while after this. Clarke's chest clenched. For their sake, she would need to keep a close eye on all three Christopher, Beryl and Cameron for a long time. Glenn and Parker too when there wasn't something at stake, if only for Glenn and Parker's safety, since Glenn and Parker knew when to be level-headed. But if it was only their personal safety on the line, not so much._

 _Christopher grabbed a head by its hair and dropped the head on the pile and Clarke could almost see the change in the young boy without even needing to see his face. His whole posture was practically sagging. It was not that of the jovial young boy who had thought that this whole life in Azgeda, learning to fight would be an adventure. Gone was the sweet young boy who had made the silliest of jokes and puns, who only lost control of anger once over jealousy towards David and suffered for it, and never acted out again, replaced by a grief-stricken wraith that took his place._

 _Clarke grit her teeth to hold her sob back. And it was because of her. Because she had lied to Nia about Ivarb. Christopher glumly lifted his head, bowed it and acknowledged the queen and turned back around, slowly, with less enthusiasm than a sloth, dragged himself back to the group._

 _Christopher went back to the line of soldiers, turning around then, facing the queen and Ontari, no emotions visible on what little of his face Clarke could see, standing between Parker and Beryl._

 _Nia stood up from her throne and Clarke finally tore her tortured eyes from the line of warriors standing across from the room from her to look up at the terrible, dangerous woman. Everyone in the room remained eerily silent at what had just occurred. All eyes ranged from the pile of bloody, decapitated heads mounted up on the floor, to the hundreds and hundreds of warriors standing across the span of the room, up against the wall where the entrance was, to the queen herself, unsure of what was about to happen. The queen at last spoke, a reptilian smile stretching across her face as she regarded the many warriors. "You have done well, my people. You have hunted down the usurpers and given them the deaths that traitors deserve. You will each be rewarded for this. New weapons for each of you. More marks for each of you. The first calls for food after I myself, and your future queens, Ontari and Wanheda, of course. Sacks of gold. And far better lodging than I suspect some of you have had in quite a while."_

 _There were rings of cheers throughout the hall, the people at the balconies of the towering palace screaming in joy for their "champions." Clarke tried to restrain her grimace. It was a sick joke. There were no champions here. Not while Nia was in power. There were only broken, grief-laden puppets. Ontari's offer this afternoon was becoming more and more tempting as the seconds ticked on by._

 _There were grateful cheers from many of the warriors and Clarke might have been worried at Parker, Christopher, Beryl, Cameron and Glenn's lackluster response, were it not for the lack of enthusiasm from the other warriors as well. It seemed her five Sky warriors weren't the only people more or less traumatized by what had happened. When the cheers began to quiet down, Nia turned to her closest guards. "Saktar! Go bring out the gold. Mathias! Get a fire running and bring the branding iron for their marks. It's time to award them their first prize. Gold and the marks of war heroes."_

 _Saktar and Mathias both mechanically answered their queen obediently and departed, Saktar going into the room that led to a tunnel, leading up to the vault where piles and piles of solid gold lay, only to be opened by the keepers of those vaults, who were stationed at the door, hidden in the depths of the tunnel, and Mathias went to the right of the queen's podium, going to another door and disappearing. Clarke knew that he was going to the dungeons to get the equipment needed to start the fire safely in this room and begin heating the branding irons._

 _Clarke could just feel her skin crawl as she glanced at the other members of the twenty-six. From the headcount that she did, she could see that every last one of the twenty-six were in this room. She found Finley, West, Blair, Hodge, David, Jesse, Kristin, Bailey, Paul, Mario, Martin, Bobbi, Frank, Dallas, Casey, Edmund, Avery, Cody, Sabine, Lorena and Simone. They were all here, all watching. She saw Aron, Micah, Linden, Lane and Farron too. Clearly, for this big, "heroic" event, everyone had come in from their training to see. And now? Now all of her people, plus the Azgeda children who respected her and believed her to be a hero would see what she had brought upon five of her own that she had swore to protect._

 _Queen Nia began walking down the steps, all eyes fixed on her as she smiled at the group of warriors. "To five particular warriors here. To Kristofa, Kamirun, Beril, Pakah and Glen kom Skaikru, now Azgeda, I say this, you have proved yourselves as great warriors this day. Continue to prove your strength. You will have glorious days like today," She gestured back to the grotesque head pile with a bare, white arm, kept warm only by the millions and millions of burning coals stuffed in all the ravines around the court, "And you will be rewarded even better than you have been now. And now, you once soft Sky people, you will be given marks as heroes. Now, you truly are warriors."_

 _Clarke tried not to seethe. Nia's pitch, as always, was disgusting and tempting all in one. 'Betray me and die slowly and painfully. Serve me and you will be made into war heroes and get whatever you want. Please don't mind all the dead bodies that are piling up next to you.' It was like holding a carrot out on a string in front of a starving, desperate horse. That was the equivalent of what Nia was doing. Only so, so much worse._

 _Mathias emerged from the room, carrying two long, iron branding rods in his right hand and his right set of fingers were curled around what Clarke suspected was a piece of steel and a piece of flint. In his left hand, he was carrying the wooden crafted bowl-holding stand that would hold the fire in it as the branding irons heated up. Mathias put the stand down on the floor, revealing a bundle of straw in its basin. Mathias put down the iron rods in the bowl, the symbols buried in the depths of the straw, the long, thin handles sticking out and leaning against the bowl's edge. Mathias then opened his right hand and took the piece of steel in one hand and still held the piece of flint in his other, leaning over the bowl, hands getting closer to the straw and banged the steel and flint together, sparks jumping out and a fire starting to rise up almost immediately._

 _Mathias pulled his hands away as the fire began to fill the bowl, surrounding the symbols of the branding irons, devouring the straw quickly. As it did, Mathias brought the steel piece and the flint piece to the lowest step of Nia's podium and put them down, grabbing two small logs from the piles up against the wall and brought them to the bowl, putting them in, feeding the fire._

 _Saktar emerged almost on cue, dragging a cart slim enough to fit through the door, but hefty enough to carry all the sacks of gold that were packed onto its large compartment. There was a whole small hill of gold sacks right there in the cart. Saktar brought the cart to a stop in front of the returned warriors, dropping the cart at the handles, the two front wheels slamming down on the floor. Saktar reached up and grabbed the nearest, bulging bags, tossing one at each of the warriors' feet. The general was first. His highest ranking warriors next. Then came the five bags that Clarke knew would be landing any second._

 _Christopher's bag landed first. Then Beryl's. Then Glenn's. Then Parker's. Then Cameron's. She could just watch as each of the five Sky kids flinched at the impact of the bags landing. It was like the reward for what they had done hurt worse than dropping the heads down in that pile._

 _Clarke didn't pay attention as the rest of the gold bags were dropped off at everyone's feet. Her eyes remained on her friends. And now they were going to receive brands. The brands of war heroes. That in itself would hurt the five of them. They had just decimated a village. Filled with a great deal of young people. They would find no achievement or glory in doing this. Having it marked on their faces, having to literally bear the mark of it every day, would scar them deeper than the branding of flesh._

 _Saktar left, after the cart was empty, to go get another one, as there were still more people to give the gold to. The queen spoke up, her voice catching everyone's attention. "Now, the receiving of the brands will begin. For their first brands, the first brands they have ever received as warriors of this proud Nation, and as Seconds who have killed their first prey, come forward!"_

 _Clarke could feel the fist that had clutched her heart begin to squeeze painfully. She watched, knowing already what would happen next. Glenn, Christopher and Parker stepped forward first. And reluctantly, so did Beryl and Cameron, following suit._

 _Their heads were bowed. To anyone else, it might have looked like they were trying to look humble for their deeds. But Clarke knew damn well that wasn't the case. What they had done killed them. Ate at them. They weren't bowing their heads out of modesty, but out of shame and remorse._

 _Glenn and Parker were the first to reach Mathias, as the large warrior pulled out the first branding iron. Glenn reached up a blood-coated hand, pushing away the brown hair from his forehead. Parker did the same. Where Glenn's hands were coated in blood, Parker's were soaked in layers and layers of different blood. Clarke didn't know just how many Parker had been forced to kill up close. It hurt to imagine._

 _Mathias brought the glowing, burning red symbol forward and Clarke could feel her need to interfere biting at her, as it had that time that Finley had been whipped for calling the queen a monster. She had only stopped herself from interfering with Finley's punishment because she knew it would only get Finley hurt worse. Here it was the same thing. By stopping Glenn, Parker, Cameron, Beryl and Christopher from getting their marks, she wouldn't be stopping them from getting their skin burned. She'd be stopping them from moving up in the ranks of the Azgeda. She would be shaming them by not allowing them to earn the warrior marks._

 _Clarke couldn't control her expression from contorting in horror and pain as she saw the branding iron come into contact with Glenn's forehead. Glenn's entire body clenched up. His lower jaw tightened harder than it likely ever had in his life. She watched the hand that had not been holding his bangs back, shoot up to his chest and when she saw Glenn's left hand clench around something, she realized Glenn was grabbing his star of David, holding it in a deadly grip for security, his clenched fist shaking as he held the six pointed star pendent._

 _Clarke almost whimpered, almost,_ _almost_ _lunging forward when she saw the tears streaming down Glenn's face. She couldn't interfere, but seeing Glenn like this….._

 _When Clarke thought it could never end, it suddenly did and Mathias pulled the brand away, Glenn's body shuddering at the pain still riding him. Mathias then brought the still burning bright brand towards Parker and Clarke this time wasn't sure she could stop herself from lunging at them. As soon as the brand pressed against Parker's forehead, the smell of burnt flesh filled Clarke's nose and her mind descended into when she had smelled so many others' flesh burned from the dungeons and she felt nauseous, like she was going to either get sick or pass out._

 _Clarke almost moved forward if only to prevent more of that noxious smell that turned her stomach and made her mind remember all the screams from the Azgeda dungeons, when a hand grabbed her left wrist, holding her back, bringing a gasp from her throat._

 _She whirled around, coming face to face with Ontari._

" _You know you can't stop this, right?" Ontari said, voice filled with more concern than anything else as she spoke quietly. "Glen, Pakah, Kristofah, Beril and Kamirun_ _have_ _to have this done to them. It will earn them honor here." Ontari was holding her as if she knew that she needed to not just hold her back, but to steady her from falling over, as if Ontari understood that Clarke was experiencing that wretched smell and remembering something awful._

 _Clarke hissed, pulling her arm from Ontari, but didn't move towards the scene any longer, even when she heard Parker hiss in pain. She cringed. "You think I don't know that?" She growled quietly at Ontari. "I know. Doesn't mean that it doesn't feel like I should do something." Klark didn't say, 'But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that.' However Ontari heard it anyway. She could see it in Klark's enraged glare. Ontari sighed, turning away from Klark, looking over at where the five Sky people were being branded, watching as Mathias pulled the brand away from Pakah, the brown-haired warrior practically sagging, her arms tensing like she was trying to stop herself from rubbing at the burn on her head and the other three Sky people looking like they wanted to stop Mathias from coming closer, but didn't move._

 _Mathias went to the metal bin where the other brand was burning and dropped the first iron in and grabbed the second one, revealing the same exact symbol on the brand, this one as hot as the first one was when it had first been pulled from the fire. Mathias brought the brand over to the now shaking, but forced calm Kristofa. Behind him, Beril and Kamirun were trying to hold back their visible fear._

 _Ontari turned away as Kristofa's forehead was slowly branded, the tall, muscled young boy bringing his right hand to his mouth, his wrist pressing against his mouth to hold back the scream that likely was going to burst from his throat at any second._

 _She looked at the aggrieved Klark, the blonde's fists clenched up, most likely painfully so._

 _Ontari sighed, speaking as quietly as she could, knowing that though she and Klark interacting would be considered normal by now, and there was a spectacle to be watched only a couple of feet away from them, there would still be people listening from a distance, "This will help them, you know. Pakah, Kamirun, Glen, Kristofa and Beril. This will help them. They will become more important in the queen's eyes. And she won't risk them as much."_

" _Yeah," Klark grumbled, "But they'll be considered killers as well." Ontari nodded, whispering gently, "People who wouldn't be looked at twice by anyone in the Azgeda with suspicion, because the five of them have earned their rightful place."_

 _Klark suddenly turned her startled gaze to Ontari, seeing the lifted, black right eyebrow and the growing of a smirk on the other young woman's face. She understood what the nightblood was saying. At least she thought maybe she did._

 _Ontari didn't say it, but Clarke heard it as if she had heard Ontari scream it. 'If no one suspects the five of them, no one will question when the five of them go off and do something. No one will question if they are involved with a plan to kill the queen.'_

 _Ontari hadn't said it, but like her own unspoken words, Clarke heard Ontari's silent sentences well._

 _Clarke glared at Ontari. "You'd use them?" She asked, her voice so quiet, no one could hear. But Ontari did as she was right next to her. Ontari turned to face Klark. "Shouldn't we?" "There's no we." Clarke hissed, remembering Anya's words when she and Anya had escaped the mountain. Words she should have heeded but had been too foolish to realize that Anya was right. There_ _was_ _no 'we.' Anya and Lexa made that very clear when they had abandoned her and her people at the mountain for dead. She ripped her hand out of Ontari's ._

 _She backed away from the other young woman, looking ahead as Mathias pulled the iron brand from Christopher and walked to Beryl who looked like she was barely holding herself up. Her dark eyes were full of sorrow and pain. It was as if everything she had been forced to do in that village was the only thing keeping Beryl there, making her take the brand. Like she thought she deserved the pain._

 _Clarke shuddered. She knew_ _that_ _feeling too well. When the brand came into contact with Beryl, Clarke almost yelped out, almost feeling Beryl's pain as the other girl forced herself to hold still, the iron pressing against her forehead. At long last, the iron was pulled from Beryl's head, Clarke's heart feeling like it was going to give out with each passing moment. Mathias turned to the metal bowl again, dumping the iron brand in and grabbing the first one he had put in, the first one heated up once more and walked over to Cameron._

 _Clarke's eyes fell on the last of the five delinquents. Cameron looked like she was about to pass out. But Clarke wasn't sure that it was from fear. No. It was from something much, much worse. Grief. Horror. Sorrow. All of them at once. More than just those three emotions. So many other soul-piercing emotions that Clarke would rather not fathom. Cameron held her head up high as Mathias touched her forehead with the branding iron, not even flinching or crying out when the burning started. The courtroom was filled with the smell of burning flesh._

 _Clarke shuddered and saw how determined Cameron was to go through this, even after everything the poor girl had already been through. Almost being raped. Having to watch a whipping. Being sent to battle, risking her life and having to kill dozens in that village, bringing back a head. And now this. Clarke turned her head to where Glenn, Parker, Beryl and Christopher were standing, her heart leaping into her throat when she saw what she saw._

 _All four Parker, Beryl, Glenn and Christopher were standing closer together than before. They weren't touching each other, but they were closer together. But that wasn't what stunned Clarke into not being able to think for a good couple of minutes. It was that all four of them were as stiff as Cameron was. And that they looked as determined as Cameron did. And that was when She saw their eyes. She saw their rage filled eyes dancing over to the queen, locking on the woman, holding right there. Condemning her. Clarke almost gasped at the sight. Their faces were completely unreadable as her own would have been under that exact circumstance. But their eyes? Their eyes were like aflame orbs ready to consume the one responsible for their trauma._

 _Clarke couldn't believe it. She stood back, stopping herself from breathing out too loudly, not wanting to attract attention. It had only been two months since they had been here, but they were going to do what was needed to survive this place. This queen that controlled their lives._

 _And if her other twenty-six were nearly as strong as these five were, which she knew they were, they would brace themselves and inflict as much damage as they could on others and against their own souls by doing what they could to survive this place as their brothers and sisters had. Clarke heaved out a breath, feeling her steps go backwards, she could now feel Ontari's presence closely._

 _She turned her head in the direction of the rest of the twenty-six. Her eyes scanned the faces of the enraged Finley, Bailey, Sabine, Paul, David, Jesse, Dallas, Bobbi and Mario, all of them looking like it was taking everything they had not to bolt forward and rip Mathias to pieces and stop him from branding their friends and siblings. But the more sensible, but equally horrified Avery, Edmund, Martin, Frank, Casey, Cody, Simone, Hodge, Kristin and West kept them at bay. Blair and Lorena just stood there, hands over their mouths, looking like they were about to burst into tears at any second._

 _It was then that Clarke made the decision. She had to. She wouldn't let any more of them do what Christopher, Beryl, Cameron, Glenn and Parker had to do. The stink in the courtroom reached an all new high. It smelled of burnt flesh, but also of decay. Those people that Glenn, Cameron, Beryl, Parker and Christopher and all the other soldiers had killed had been killed days ago. Because obviously, it had had taken a while to get here. The ice buckets made sense now. But of course, there was no helping that blood that was all over the returned soldiers._

 _Clarke made her decision. Even if any of the rest of the twenty-six were sent out to do things like this, she couldn't let them do it in vain. And what if one day the five of them or some of the other twenty-six were sent out to hurt people outside of the Azgeda? Like other villages, like where the rest of the Sky people lived on Earth? In the Trikru territory? Clarke felt the ice surrounding her start to dig into her skin, even though there was no physical contact. It felt like a massive cold was cutting into her again and again._

 _There wasn't a choice now. Maybe there never was. The Ice Queen had to be stopped. If not for her or Ontari's sake, for their peoples.' For the twenty-six's._

 _Clarke slowly turned to face Ontari, the raven-haired warrior turning her grim attention back to Clarke in question at the new attention being paid to her. Clarke knew she needed to keep her voice low as she heard Cameron gasp and Mathias's footsteps getting away from the girl. Clarke wanted to turn around and check on Cameron, but couldn't. She had ask Ontari this._

 _She could do it. For her and Ontari's sakes. For Cameron, Parker, Glenn, Beryl and Christopher's sakes. For all of the twenty-six's sakes. For the sake of the people of Azgeda, she could do it. If all the queen had to offer were sacks of gold, burning brands to mark you as a murderer and piles and piles of severed heads and freezing snow, Clarke_ _could_ _do it. And she_ _had_ _to._

" _Ontari," Clarke began in the quietest of voices, trying to ignore how her stomach still turned at the smell and the images that the smell launched into her mind, "I need to speak with you later. When there's no one around, I need to speak with you. In my quarters." Ontari looked startled at the statement, but nodded. "Understood." She said quietly._

 _As cheers began to fill the courtroom, cheering Azgeda crowing at the five newest blood covered "heroes" of this nation, Clarke knew with certainty what would have to happen next. She had to accept Ontari's plan. She had to know what those plans were. Ontari must have read Clarke's resolve in her eyes because Clarke saw the corners of the Azgeda woman turn upwards, even if only a little._

" _Of course," Ontari said quietly, pleased. "Great Wanheda."_

 **Present day:**

 **The waters of the North Atlantic Ocean:**

The twenty minutes away from the docks and proceeding to go out deep in the ocean had been uneventful, thankfully. And Wells found himself leaning over the side of the top of the ship, looking at the massive waves the ship was riding. The ship sailed surprisingly fast. Wells couldn't believe they were already at least an hour away from the Floukru harbor where they had taken off from in the first place. He occasionally looked over at where Raven and the others were to make sure they were all safe. Raven looked uneasy as the ship rocked, but Wells smirked, seeing the woman eventually grin as the briny wind hit her hair and warmth spilled into Wells's chest.

Across the deck from him and the other Sky people, Lexa and Anya were talking. Wells only was pulled from looking over at Raven and the others when he heard their footsteps and glanced at them. Wells eventually scowled at them. He didn't bother questioning about what they were talking about. He had made his decision about the type of people they were and wasn't planning on changing it anytime soon.

Onya leaned close to her once Seken, the thick, salty wind blowing her dirty-blonde hair around. "Heda," She began as Leksa turned her attention to the older woman, "What was it that you were going to say before? You looked like you wanted to say something before, but the Floukru boy brought us the news." Leksa nodded, not wanting to talk about it, but knew she couldn't lie to the woman who had at one time been her teacher. "Klark," Leksa answered, the name of their beloved making Onya's attention turn dark and humorless. "Even if we take her from the Ice Queen, she will never want anything to do with us again." Onya's lower jaw tightened and she nodded, closing her eyes, hiding her pain at what her Heda said. "You knew that was a possibility when you made that deal, Leksa. You were the one who made the deal, Heda." Onya added when Leksa's cold mask remained in place, "I know you thought it made sense, and that you were doing it for our people. But even if giving the bone marrow to the Mountain Men wasn't a dangerous choice to make, one that I still have questions about, one of them being, how could you have done something so foolish-" Onya ignored the danger in her commander's glare, "Klark has a right to not wish to have anything to do with us." The words hurt Onya to say and she knew they hurt Leksa too. But she knew that it was the truth.

"So if she told you she wanted nothing to do with you," Leksa began, already knowing the answer, "You would just let her go?" Leksa watched with prediction as the older tensed at the question. She already suspected the truth. And as much as she wanted to also claim that she would let Klark go, were the Sky woman to say that she wanted nothing to do with her, Leksa wasn't sure she could do that. She had told herself when she learned that Klark had disappeared a week after Klark had destroyed the Mountain, that she would do the right thing by Klark, knowing that the Sky woman wouldn't want her anymore after what she did and what was more that Klark had every _right_ not to want anything to do with her or with Onya.

But Leksa wasn't sure she could do as she had promised herself she would do. How could she, knowing that Klark was in the hands of the Ice Queen? How could she, knowing that she might never see Klark alive again? Even after they rescue Klark, the Commander knew that even if she wanted to let Klark go and cut all ties between the three of them because it was the honorable thing to do, to allow it to happen, she wasn't sure she could.

She didn't know if she was strong enough to live in a world where Klark wasn't at her and Onya's side.

"Could you do it?" Leksa pressed as Onya cocked her head at her, gauging the other's reaction, "If Klark asked, could you let her go?"

Onya kept her face a mask of calm, though Leksa knew the older woman well enough to know that Onya was anything but calm at the moment. Onya regarded her once Seken. "You ask me that? _You?_ You were already willing to let her go. If that meant that your people, that should have included the Skaikru as they were our allies at the time." At Leksa's hardening gaze, Onya was the one that pressed this time. " _You_ left our homon at the mountain. I did not." Onya added, turning to where the anchors of the ship were being brought up. "If Klark wishes me gone from her life, I'll at least know that I did everything I could to keep her safe. I went back to the mountain. If she wishes me gone," Onya breathed in deeply and Leksa could see the pain written across the older woman's face. "Then I will do everything I can to respect her wishes after we bring her back to her people."

Leksa nodded, though she wasn't sure she could deal with what Onya was saying. She wanted to do the right thing. She had known leaving the Skaikru in the Mountain would be a dangerous thing to do for her and Onya's relationship with Klark. But she had been sure, so sure that Klark would eventually see that what she had done had been the best. That leaving the Sky People had been the choice she had needed to make for her own people.

And that Klark would have done the same thing for her own people.

But Leksa knew the truth. Klark wouldn't have. At least, Leksa knew in her heart that Klark wouldn't have. Her head told her otherwise. But it didn't matter now. They had to get to Azgeda now. They'd rescue Klark. How Klark reacted to them…that was a different story. Leksa would need to dedicate all her strength and effort on protecting Klark. She couldn't think about what came afterwards.

"I admire your resolve." Leksa said, looking out at the sea and the clear sky, leaning her elbows on the side of the boat. "If Klark has been alive in Azgeda this whole time, I wonder, what has happened in her time there." Leksa felt mostly horror at the prospect of Klark being the Azgeda's captive, but she also realized that Klark would perhaps gain a great deal before this was all over. Not only would she have been the one to cure all the reapers and defeat their greatest enemy, but she will have survived the Azgeda and will have brought the Skaikru, the Trikru and the other tribes together. Klark would be even more of a legend after this. There would not be one member of any tribe that would dare speak ill of Klark again after this.

"And you have another look, Kanla," Onya observed, "You're still thinking about Klark?" Leksa chuckled. "Em pleni, Onya. Don't make me regret bringing you."

Onya allowed herself a snicker, not sure how she could do that with the knowledge that the Azgeda had Klark, but somehow she managed it. "I wouldn't dream of it, Heda." Leksa kept her eyes on the sea. They would have a long journey. A whole month's journey to reach Klark.

 **Author's note:**

 **Sterlying: Sterling**

 **Munroh: Monroe**

 **Foks: Fox**

 **Okay, so a little rant about the Trikru. Hey, just because I notice a bunch of things wrong with the abusive Skaikru, doesn't mean that I can't chew out the asshole Trikru too.**

 **About Clarke being Wanheda. How exactly are all warriors that have even** _ **touched**_ **Clarke since the fall of the mountain still alive? I mean, seriously, this is the girl who had the reapers cured and is known as the one that destroyed the mountain. So why isn't it basically punishable by death to even raise a hand to her?**

 **And this bullshit about "taking her power." That's such bullshit. We've never heard about "Grounders believe that they take the power from the people they kill" before. If that was the case, we've had literally two seasons for it to be mentioned. And we've never heard it mentioned once. It was just created in the third season to create more stupid drama. Drama for the sake of drama is always going to end up being crap.**

 **And again, how is it not basically a law to not so much as** _ **look**_ **at Wanheda the wrong way? I mean sure, she's a Sky person, but even if the rest of the Sky people are abhorred and considered outsiders by the rest of the tribes, Wanheda, the one that wiped out an enemy (older than the sky people and way worse than the sky people), clearly has to be the exception aside from those that join the tribes, like Octavia. I mean, if the Grounders don't do that, they clearly are complete ungrateful sacks of turds.**

 **Oh wait…**

 **That's basically what they are.**

 **Then again, what do you expect when you're dealing with a load of cowards. Oh, did I just call the Trikru cowards?**

 **Well, what should I call people who claim that they're so strong and powerful and yet, when there's 300 of them versus 100 in the first season, and the said 100 are seriously lacking in training, and instead of charging them, what do they do? They use biological warfare of a tortured** _ **teenager,**_ **a** _ **child**_ **(Murphy) to** _ **soften**_ **up the enemy before attacking.**

 **You know…instead of facing off against the 100 at the 100's strongest like actual warriors?**

 **And the Trikru act like such indignant whiners when they're talking about the 300 that attacked the 100. Okay, you have the right to be upset about your warriors dying and their family members losing them, but to have such an attitude when you guys claim you're such warriors, you have to wonder if these people actually** _ **are**_ **warriors. You start fighting back and the Trikru are so indignant that they act as if they've never faced battle before.**

 **Yeah, clearly the Trikru are such mighty,** _ **brave**_ **warriors. Riiiggggghhhhht.**

 **Oh, and no one seems to answer this one little question: Who the hell were the people that almost killed Jasper at the end of the first episode?! Seriously, that's never answered, is it?**

 **Oh and for anyone that might be wondering if Anya and Lexa being together romantically and sexually is a thing, no. Just no and ew. Fucking ew and no. Okay, ew. You realize that Anya was Lexa's mentor and Anya knew and taught Lexa from when Lexa was only like nine or something right? She's practically Lexa's mother. I don't know about you, but I find child grooming to be disgusting, immoral, horrific and abhorrent, how about you?**


	11. Giving into your worst side

**Trigger warnings for mentions of torture, slow painful death and trauma.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 11: Giving into your worst side:**

 **Azgeda Territory: Norway**

Ontari had watched the unnerving transformation go across Klark's face. It was a disturbing thing to see. And it seemed to stick for the rest of the day.

Ontari had been watching Klark for what felt like ages. The words that had left Klark's lips an hour ago made Ontari's blood run cold. Exactly what Nia wanted. It was happening now. The darker desires that Klark had kept so well imprisoned, were now being unearthed. The presence of one vile man was bringing forth Klark's darker wants. Sharp clawed, razor teeth filled mouthed demons were spurting forward. Vicious, glowing eyed, black dogs and bloodthirsty wildcats; all things Ontari had had nightmares of when she was a child, along with the nightmares of the screams that had come from the dungeons that used to scare her as a child, were beginning to emerge from Klark's soul the longer she knew that Emerson was here and at her mercy any time she wanted to start cutting at him.

Klark was hiding her rage well. But Ontari could see the changes. The subtle changes. How tightly wound Klark seemed to be. Her eyes hardening for no apparent reason other than she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts and would take on the unsettling look. Anyone who got near and noticed the look would back away. Even the braver warriors who trained nearby kept a safe distance from the enraged looking Wanheda.

If it had been any other situation, Ontari would have been amused. But this wasn't any other situation. Klark was considering really doing what Queen Nia wanted of her. To kill Emerson in hatred. To torture him slowly. To make it last for weeks. Months maybe even. Was that what Klark really was going to do? And the more Ontari looked at Klark, the more she had the horrific feeling that Klark was really going to do it this time.

They had separated at the healing center at Klark's wishes. Ontari hadn't wanted to leave her there, knowing that Klark had said that, but Klark, with a troublingly calm expression had asked Ontari again to leave and Ontari knew it best not to push the matter. She had wanted to stay. Had wanted to comfort the other and hadn't wanted to leave the other like that, but knew Klark wouldn't stand for it. Now, at dinnertime, there was no indication from any of the healing wounded and the Seconds that were going to the courts for food had been told by Klark about Emerson. It seemed that Klark was keeping that particular matter a secret. Whether it was to keep people calm or keep _herself_ calm, Ontari had to admit she didn't know.

Klark would perhaps say that she had done it to keep everyone else calm. But Ontari suspected the latter and not the former. This pretense of calm was for her own sake. So Klark wouldn't fall apart at any given moment, knowing that one of her worst enemies was chained up in the dungeons for her.

Ontari and walked through the court as dinner was laid out over the tables. She was to go about her usual business. Ontari to her throne and eat the food before her and her mother, and she spotted Klark, who she realized had gone in earlier was to going to the table where the twenty-six and Klark's other Seconds sat. Ontari watched with dread, walking to her throne and sitting down, earning a sickeningly pleased smile from her mother, and looked out as Klark sat down with her companions, fear building in her chest over what Klark might be thinking right now. She could feel Kristofa and Kodee at her back, armed with an ax and a sword. Kodee's long sword was strapped to the left side of her waist and Kristofa's battleax was tied to his right hip.

Every blooming Azgeda warrior was expected to do their part in protecting the royalty of the Ice Nation. So all warriors guarded the queen and her heir at one time or another. For the next eight days, Kristofa and Kodee would be Ontari's own personal bodyguards. It wasn't something that any of the three of them hated. If anything it was a convenience. It meant that she, Kristofa and Kodee could conspire together without worries of Ontari's mother's servants listening in on them. And unfortunately, some of them had in the past been assigned to guard her mother from harm. That had not been service that any of them enjoyed. Frank, Dayvid, Jesee and Maaryo had been chosen for that on more than one occassion. Klark herself had tried to make sure that Dayvid knew he could _not_ put his ax into Nia's head. Not unless he wanted to immediately be tortured to death by those loyal to Nia who they had yet to get rid of.

The quick-tempered Dayvid had listened glumly.

Jesee had been vigilant and Maaryo was surprisingly serious about his bodyguard duty.

Ontari knew that Kristofa and Kodee were to be trusted. All planned takeovers aside, if any bandit or thief attempted anything, Kristofa's ax would make short work of the offender and Kodee's sword would go through the attacker in seconds. Fynly had been her bodyguard once. Two months ago. A woman from a village that the queen had decimated with her warriors had tried to poison Ontari as a form of revenge for her dead children. The poison had been a way of hurting the queen in turn. Fynly had seen the woman's quick hands dump the poison in and Fynly had acted fast. She had smacked the platter with the goblets off of the servants hand, making the whole court gasp and Fynly had charged the woman who was fleeing, Fynly drawing her sword, calling out "Assassin! Assassin!" had lunged for the woman, armed. The terrified woman had been made short work of when Fynly had impaled her. The woman had been found with vials of poison on her person.

Fynly had been rewarded, made into a captain as a result. She had the facial mark of a captain, the mark of a high warrior now, as did Klark, Beril, Glen, Kamirun, Pakah Kristofa and Bayly. The queen barely questioned Fynly's loyalty after that. It seemed that the queen had all but forgotten about the "monster" insult thrown at her by Fynly when the young girl had been a captive nearly six and a half months ago, and had witnessed Klark's back being branded by tribal marks at Nia's orders. Now, in the eyes of the queen herself, Fynly was a hero. Which was very convenient. No one would ever think to suspect Fynly, unless they were even more suspicious than the queen herself. Unfortunately, that meant that they had to all act like the good little soldiers so as not to raise questions. Fynly and all the others had to protect the queen. Even if they would rather put a sword through her.

After that incident, Ontari had questioned if Fynly could be trusted with the eventual uprising they were planning. She had made the mistake of asking Klark. She had learned a valuable lesson then. If you wished to stay on Klark's good side, you did not question if her beloved Seconds, who she had sworn to protect, could be trusted or not. It was usually a good idea if you wanted to avoid being coldly ignored throughout most of the week. Ontari had learned never to-at least out loud voice doubts about whether or not Fynly or any of the other Seconds under Klark's tutelage could be trusted with the uprising.

Of course, Nia couldn't die now. At least not so soon.

Ontari knew that if the queen died, there were more than a few followers and advisors that would immediately jump onto the leaderless kingdom as soon as they could. Even with Ontari in the throne, they would take advantage. Which was why they had to get rid of Nia's followers first before anything else. Ontari's own advisor, Hasenjo had to die. She would take it upon herself to do that. He was her advisor. He was her responsibility. She would end him herself as soon as she had the chance and there was no one around to accuse her of murder for it.

Ontari slid her dark eyes back to the left, catching a glimpse of Kristofa and Kodee, both of them nodding to her in acknowledgement, Kristofa appearing slightly intimidating to any who were unused to his iron animal mask over his mouth and nose, and by Kodee's steel, grinning skull face covering her own beautiful, dark-skinned one, ebony hair tied back in a long ponytail.

Ontari saw Klark sitting at the food tables with the many Seconds. Frank was next to her with his entarg, Kozarr on his lap. Blare, Lyndin, Layne and Lorrenna were here, some of them back from the healing center. Across from them were Farrun, who practically jumped out of his seat to hug Klark around the waist. Klark's fierce anger melted for a moment to show the young boy warmth as she returned the embrace. Ontari smiled. Klark could never remain angry when the Azgeda children, especially Farrun were nearby.

Klark lifted the dark-haired Farrun up onto the bench, moving over away from the person right next to her, Caysi, the Bear Slayer so that Farrun could fit between the two of them. Caysi reached down and ruffled the boy's black hair. The boy grinned and grabbed at bread in front of him, not even bothering with any cutlery. Farrun ripped into the bread, taking a little too big of bites that Ontari smirked, seeing Klark say something to the boy and suspecting that it was something akin to "chew small, sweetie. You'll choke." Ontari tried not to chuckle. For a moment, it almost felt like things were normal for them. Ontari knew that normal had a rather different meaning for Klark and the other Sky People. But as normal as it could be for them. As normal as things could be, with Klark pretending to be the queen's personal murderer. And as normal as it could be with the queen continuously trying to get Klark to _enjoy_ torture and murder, unsuccessfully and this one incident being a possible success, given who the newest prisoner was.

That loving grin on Klark's face, directed at Farrun almost looked like it could stay there, instead of likely about to melt off a second later when Klark had time to return to her tempestuous thoughts.

As Ontari predicted, Klark could only maintain that smile for so long once she was looking away from Farrun. Though her face was neutral, Ontari could almost feel the tight, unresolved anger and tension growing. Something horrible was starting to rise inside Klark and Ontari knew that it was only a matter of time before it came out. It was being held very carefully in place by a mask of calm right now.

Ontari held herself still, making sure not to show any emotion herself. She couldn't give anything away. She would need to talk with Klark later. But now was not the time. She was helpless to do anything now at the moment. As much as Ontari hated that, loathed that, she knew there was no other choice right now but to pretend that everything was as normal as it could be here.

Across the courtroom, at the table Wanheda and her seconds were sitting at, Clarke leaned forward, faking a smile at Dayvid who pushed over a plate of sliced and cooked turnips. David, Hodge and Paul were sitting next to each other as they usually did when it became suspected about who their biological father was. Simone, Sabine and Lorena were of course all by blood fully sisters, that was unavoidable because they had the exact same biological mother and father. But when Hodge's father as it turned out, hadn't been around much, even before Hodge's mother had gotten pregnant. And Paul never knew who his real father was. Plus David's mother had explicitly mentioned Paul's mother before and had told David to stay away from Paul and his mother there had been suspicions. Then there was the fact all three boys were close to the same age and as soon as Hodge's mother had been only a few months pregnant, one of her other partners had left, afraid of being floated. Which meant that he had broken the law and had a previous child on the Ark. And then there was the unnerving fact that if you looked at all three Paul, David and Hodge lined up, you'd find some very creepy facial similarities.

So as Parker put it, on the latest shock for all of them, adjusting to life here, there was a strong possibility that Paul, Hodge and David were all brothers and their father had broken a law on the Ark twice. Maybe more than that. Who exactly was looking after the implants in the Ark? It looked like even before the 100 had been sent down, before many of them were even born, there had been flaws in the implants. Who knew how many illegitimate, biological siblings Hodge, Paul and David had back on the Ark? It didn't matter much to them. They already considered each other brothers and the rest of the twenty-six, Clarke and the Azgeda trainees their family.

Frank was sitting across from them. His entarg, "boyfriend," Kozarr was on his lap, grabbing up a bunch of pieces of bread greedily. On her right side, Blair, Linden and Lane sat together.

Next to Frank with Kozarr on his lap, sat Glenn with his entarg, his girlfriend, Rora next to him, Mario who was sporting a new bruise on his lower jaw from training, Kristin who was gulping some ale down and shoving a cup at Mario and Mario smirked taking up the drinking challenge, and Simone who was nuzzling Parker's neck. Clarke looked over to the right at Martin wasn't even bothering with his food. Martin was offering his cup of ale to West, who took it quickly. Avery was sitting down, grabbing some pieces of meat, not bothering with any knives. She, Edmund and West had gotten back a few hours ago from a hunt. Avery and Edmund had been aiding her in the healing center. Clarke didn't see Edmund anywhere. She frowned, thoughts of Emerson straying from her mind for a few relieving moments.

"Where's Edmund?" She asked Avery and West. West shrugged. Avery answered between chewing, "He wanted to go help some of the other kids get food. Some of them are too weak to go get food themselves. Edmund went to the storages to get some food for them." Clarke nodded, smiling, feeling warmth and pride that Edmund was doing that.

Dallas, Beryl, Bobbi and Cameron were out training together and Jesse, Bailey and Sabine were cleaning their weapons. And Finley was in the shadows somewhere in this room, watching Mathias's every move. It was reassuring to know where everyone was.

Had Ontari not delivered the disturbing news she had, Clarke would have remained with that warm feeling for a while, as she had done in the past when one of the twenty-six did things like that. But learning that Emerson was here, in the dungeon, her mind had been thrown right back into Mount Weather. Surrounded by the dead, hundreds of accusations cast her way by the dead. Demanding justice.

Lexa and Anya's betrayal.

Emerson wanting her peoples' blood.

Cage ordering her mother's torture.

Her peoples' screams ringing in her ear along with that wretched drilling sound.

She just hadn't been able to think, about anything really the past hour. She was utterly grateful for Edmund. Helping those that needed help and couldn't get food for themselves. Edmund was such a good young man. It was surprising to see him still maintaining his kindness and empathy despite all he had seen. Still, the young man did everything he could to help others around him in Azgeda, even those that weren't his immediate group.

Clarke nodded, ordering quietly for the others to save some food for when Edmund got here. The others answered back their confirmation as they ate. That normally would have made Clarke chuckle at least. It didn't now. The knowledge of what she had been told was like a never-ending hitting needle to her brain. Emerson was here. Emerson was alive. Emerson was here. And Emerson was tied up, in the dungeons, ready to be tortured and killed. She wasn't sure she _could_ think about anything else right now.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table in front of her. She avoided looking anywhere near the steps where Nia and Ontari sat on their thrones. Both of them knew about Emerson. The queen had had him brought here. Ontari had told her about him. She couldn't even imagine how worried Ontari must have been right now. Nia was most likely was gloating, reveling in her victory on her throne. She knew that Clarke had never really given her what she wanted when Clarke had forced herself to be calm and unfeeling every time that she had been put in a room with a bound prisoner, ordered to torture or brutally kill the prisoner in some way.

She had never given the queen what the queen had wanted. Not really. Clarke had always made sure to avoid it. She never felt _anything_ when she cut the prisoners. At first it had been despair, every single time she killed them, usually making sure to kill them quickly, so they wouldn't experience torture, and when the queen had understood what she was doing, had threatened to put members of the twenty-six in the prisoners' places if Clarke didn't begin to torture the prisoners. When the next prisoner that had been chained to the wall, Nia had suggested that one of the twenty-six would take his place if Clarke didn't start torturing the chained man. And what was worse, Nia had suggested that _Clarke_ would be the one to choose which of the twenty-six would be chained up and tortured.

Needless to say, Clarke's intentional tortures became more common after that, unfortunately. It hurt her every time to do. But after a while, she just became numb to it. It was once again, just another duty she had to fulfill to keep her people safe. It was yet another horrifying thing she had to do to protect her people that would haunt her nightmares and that was glorified by this society as an act of a hero.

Just more blood on her hands.

More nightmares. More flashbacks.

But now? With Emerson in Azgeda territory, being held here?

Things were going to be very, very different now. Emerson. The man that had tortured her nightmares just as much as Lexa and Anya had. As much as the dead inside the mountain had. He had appeared in her nightmares, countless times over. Taunting her over her friends dying. Taunting her, telling her that she had murdered his family and that he would murder _hers_ in turn. Telling her she was a monster and that she deserved death. That everyone she loved deserved death.

Clarke's teeth ground together. She had learned the names of Emerson's family members when she had been in the mountain. She knew who he had loved, the people she had killed along with the rest of the Mountain Men. She had killed his two daughters and his wife. His little brother too. Now she'd kill him so that he could never hurt or threaten anyone she loved ever again.

Emerson's family hadn't deserved the way they died. But Emerson himself certainly did, and did deserve being tortured.

The rage that had built up the moment Ontari had told her that Emerson was here and alive could barely be fully bottled up inside her. She could feel every fiber of her being ready to explode. A part of her wanted to bolt straight to the dungeons without either Nia or Ontari accompanying her and gut Emerson right there. But a part of her feared what would come next. She had his leering face burned in her memory. The grinning face of the man so pleased that the Commander had taken his deal haunted her. To see it again, even if he was at her mercy this time? She wasn't sure she'd survive that.

She didn't think it was actually physically possible to have a heart attack just by seeing someone that had hurt her, but she suspected that it might be in this certain case. There was no reason why she should believe otherwise under these circumstances. She hated that man. Hated him even more than she hated the Ice Queen. She was certain that if the roles were reversed and the Ice Queen had been the one to be at the mountain's door, trying to break in to wipe out the mountain men, that Nia would not have turned away, would not have taken the deal. If only for her own pride, and to prove how powerful her people were, Nia would have gone in anyway, killing as many of the Mountain Men as her people could get their hands on, and she would have killed Emerson probably as soon as the wretched man had offered that deal as a sign of outrage for such a suggestion.

Whether it was moral or not was besides the point. The point was, had Nia been leading the charge on Mount Weather, things would have happened very differently.

Clarke knew it was foolish thinking to believe that Nia could have been better than Lexa. That was a naïve thought that had no place here after everything she had seen the older woman do. Nia would have wiped everyone out. Probably Clarke and her own people as well. So yes, things would have gone differently. But to Nia's credit, Clarke knew the Ice Queen wouldn't have retreated like a coward and neither would have Ontari.

Finally, Clarke found her eyes rising up to where Nia sat. It seemed strange, but for all the plotting that she, Ontari and the twenty-six had conducted behind Nia and her followers' backs, this was probably one of the sweetest gifts Clarke had ever received. It was not out of any kindness of Nia's heart, Clarke knew this well. But it didn't change that a thrill went through her knowing that here Emerson was, if the queen really had succeeded in catching him and he was at her mercy, and she could remove his skin, take his organs, slice his bones any time she wished. That last part seemed particularly poetic. To cut into his bones. Carve into them as his people had done to her own people. Stolen their bone marrow to go above ground. Taken from them against their will.

Their bodies violated, their will taken.

This time, Emerson would pay dearly for what he had done to her people. She slipped her eyes to the right and turned her head to survey Kristin, Glenn, Simone, Parker, Mario, Martin, West, Avery, Paul, Hodge, David, Lorena, Blair, Linden, Lane, Frank, Casey and Farron. She looked then to where Aron and Micah sat with their families, then up the steps of the queen's pedestal at where the tense and emotionless appearing Ontari sat with Christopher and Cody at her back, protecting her. Clarke glared down at the table's plates. She would not let Carl Emerson threaten anyone she loved again. Not the people she loved here, not her people in the Trikru territory, not anywhere.

She remembered when Atano, the torturer had been felled near one of his beloved taverns. It had supposedly been an assassination. By who, no one knew. But Clarke had known. Even when people had just started questioning who it possibly could have been, Clarke had had her suspicions. Especially since she did not recall seeing either Finley or West at their usual training sessions. Thankfully, only she, Mario and Glenn knew that the four of them had planned that training session. And well, none of _them_ were going to tell anyone that.

When Atano's death had been reported, occurring almost two months ago, Clarke's eyes, almost against their will, had traveled to where her twenty-six Seconds occupied the courtroom. All of them had looked startled by the news…save for Finley, West, Paul, Mario and Kristin. Clarke had understood almost immediately what had happened. They had killed Atano. Or some of them had the other members of those five had known and had kept the secret.

It was as plain as day, the smirks that had crossed Finley, Kristin and Mario's faces, the nod of Paul's head even if it was against his better instincts to do so, and West's nearly pleased look that had appeared for a moment before disappearing and being replaced with what Clarke had known even then to be a forced look of shock.

It wasn't like it had been the first time that their group had literally murdered people who were only loyal to the queen. There had been a number of calculated murders committed in the name of their cause, made to look like accidents or bar brawls that got out of hand, or just training that went too far. Many of Clarke's Seconds had done things like that. It still made her heart shudder, knowing what they had to do for their eventual freedom. But they had never committed a murder for the reasons that Clarke, even then had suspected they had committed the murder of Atano over.

As far as Clarke knew, her Seconds had never committed murder over something like a grudge. For revenge.

As it turned out, it hadn't been revenge for them, but for her. For the whippings that she had to endure two months prior to Atano's death. When she had lied to the queen for Cameron. She had partially suspected it, but it had still come as a surprise to her when Finley and West admitted to doing it for her.

Yes, as she later found out when she had privately questioned each of the five who had looked suspicious, as it turned out, Finley and West had in fact killed Atano (Finley made it clear that it had been for the whippings that Atano had given Clarke four months ago), and Mario and Kristin had been the lookouts, and Paul had been the one to make up the story that both Finley and West had been at their training session where they were supposed to be. When Clarke had confronted Glenn, Glenn had immediately agreed to backing up Paul's claims that West and Finley had been with him. It wasn't that hard for people to believe it, as Finley's lover, Jarra had been mentioning here and there that West and her lover were at training during the time that Atano's murder had taken place and so any suspicion that might have gone Finley and West's way would be quickly silenced.

It still surprised Clarke how quickly Jarra had turned to their side, even with the knowledge of what Nia had done to Jarra's brother and uncle simply for failure. Finley, in a drunk, disgusted stupor had lamented in private how Jarra was still haunted by her uncle's screams from the dungeons, years after his brutal death, and by the smell of her brother's burnt body.

So if her Seconds, her people, her family could do it, she could do it. She was going to do it. Her rage bubbling up, ruling her. She would slaughter him. She would rip him from piece, from piece, from piece. There was a strange, murderous satisfaction in knowing that she would do this. She grabbed her knife, clutching it harder than she should have as she leaned closer to the plate in front of her, staring at the meat, imagining it being Emerson's newly bloodied flesh. She would not allow Emerson to hurt any of her family ever again. She would do anything to prevent it. Even the most horrifying decimation of his body and a torturous death if that was what it took.

 **(Page break)**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Night had nearly encased the sky, glittering stars beginning to dot the black-blue blanket that had rolled over the ship and ocean. Kint had brought out sacks and sacks of food. He had made it clear that they'd need to keep themselves strong for the journey. But they had a limited supply of food. It hadn't taken any of the occupants new to the ship long before they heard animal noises down below and they were not the sounds of horses neighing. It sounded like sheep, goats and pigs.

As it turned out for food, since meat would go bad after a few days. So live animals were a good idea to have around. To be slaughtered for food later in the month. And there was still the food that was needed for the journey back. Salted fish had been provided for, the fish brought aboard only an hour ago and the butchering and salting being applied now. The rations provided at the moment were bread, fruits and vegetables. The vegetables were steamed and eventually everyone, save for Kint and the pilot of the ship and the navigator were below, eating at the tables.

Bowls of soup, vegetables and plates of salted fish were the crew's dinner. The chatter that rose between the 100 and the guards and the many tribe warriors. The Commander herself and Anya were sitting together, across from each other, eating and speaking quietly. Wells brought a bowl of food to Raven at their table, she took it, smiling up at him and nodding. "Thanks." She mumbled.

Wells sat across from her, smiling. "I thought you were going to be sick when we first got onboard. You seem okay now."

Raven snorted, " _Now_ you care about any of us being okay? You've been totally AWOL when you're not practically dragged from your bunk." Wells shook his head, frowning. "I always cared. I just didn't want to deal with other peoples' shit." Raven tried not to roll her eyes. "By 'other people,' you mean, Bellamy, right?" Wells looked startled at her and she smirked. "Not as subtle as you think you are, are you, Jaha?" Wells sighed, giving a small smile. "I guess not. And yeah, I _do_ mean him." Because a council member wasn't that much good to anyone if they didn't care about other peoples' problems. That had been why Wells's father had been seen as such a pariah. It wasn't people in general that Wells wanted to avoid. Just one. One that he had the misfortune of sharing a council with.

"I can't help it." Wells offered, his voice apologetic. "He let Clarke go. How hard was he trying to keep her with us?" Raven looked at Wells incredulously. "Was he supposed to hold her captive? Were we supposed to keep Clarke in a cage or something, Wells? Like the Mountain Men would have done?" Wells glared. "Of course not! But he just let her go! He didn't tell us so we could go after her. Did he really think she would be safe out there? A world full of Grounders? People that abandoned us? Why didn't he tell us that she left?"

Raven sighed, glaring down into her soup, cursing her own helplessness, cursing Wells for being right, cursing Bellamy for not telling them until it was too late that Clarke had left all of them. Cursing Clarke for leaving. Cursing herself for not noticing till Clarke was long gone. It had taken until nightfall when they finally had started noticing that someone in their traumatized and wounded party was missing. That had been when the panic had started and when they had finally gotten an answer from Bellamy, that he had just _let_ their other leader and one of the people that had saved their lives in the Mountain just _walk_ away with only a handgun as protection, they had started a mass search. A mass search that had gotten nowhere fast.

Raven to be honest, wasn't sure who she was angrier at. Clarke for leaving them. Wells for being right now. Bellamy for letting Clarke walk away. Or herself for not realizing too late that her friend was gone. Why had it taken her so long to notice that Clarke was missing? She had been in so much pain the past few months since the mountain. It was ebbed away now, but for almost three months she had been experiencing agony, till the fourth month and the pain began to ease. These last three months, aside from the occasional ache in her hip, it had practically been normal for her to walk around. She owed Abby big time.

The good doctor, for all her annoying comments, had made sure that Raven was all patched up and fully recovering. The only thing that was left was making sure they survived the next day, and the pain of Clarke not being with them anymore. The question that plagued Raven and the others everyday. Where was Clarke? Was she safe? Didn't she think about them at all? Why hadn't she thought of them when she left?

But now they knew. Clarke had been gone for a month, and then had been kidnapped. The last six months probably weren't even her fault. She was being held captive by those Ice freaks. Raven uselessly toyed with her soup with the wooden spoon deep in the basin. She was going to kill Clarke when she saw her. Not literally, obviously. But god, she was going to lose her voice yelling at Clarke. Raven had been driving herself crazy wondering where the other young woman was. Wondering what she could have done differently to keep Clarke from running off. But they'd find her, rescue her, yell the hell at her, and then hug her till there was no tomorrow.

"Your hip," Wells's voice caught Raven's attention quickly, "Is it feeling okay?" Raven nodded. "It's fine, Wells. It's been fine for a while. I don't need people to keep asking me that. Seriously, Jaha." Wells nodded, smiling. "Just making sure." A stray black was dangling along Raven's forehead, getting into her eye. He pushed aside the need to reach out and push the stray hair back from Raven's face. He knew she wouldn't appreciate that. Much as he wanted to do it.

Wells forced his eyes away from her and glanced over at the table to his left where Sterling, Jones, Monroe and Rudy sat. Then to the other table where four of the oldest of the 100 that were still alive, Susan, Hank, Brett and Pauline sat. He turned to the right where Fox sat next to him. Across from Fox sat Harper, next to Raven. The next tables over sat more of the 100 that had come with them from Arkadia. Luke, Grace, Molly, Max, Bree, Peyton, Kevin, Evan and so on. A lot of them had more visible scars than Wells himself. Wells only had a few cut marks from the fight at the dropship that he had acquired with the Grounders before he had practically thrown Clarke into the ship to set the ring of fire off.

There was a large, long scar that adorned his back from the long blade of one Grounder he had slammed his fist so hard into the throat of that he thought he was going to break his fist. But the cut, thankfully hadn't been that deep. And it had been patched up quickly, by Charlotte, Finn and Octavia when he met up with them after the battle. When Clarke, Anya and the 100 had been captured by the plastic-suited people. But it had been patched up.

The others had _way_ more obvious scars than he did. Burns from the ring of fire when they had managed to get out of the way just barely in time. They had gotten out of range, but still the flames had licked at them, scarring some of their legs and faces.

Grace and Luke were the most badly burned. Max, Molly and Kevin had slash marks along their chests, going up to the bottom of their throats, just peaking out from the collars of their shirts. Gifts from Anya's deceased Grounder army. Wells was going to guess that was why some of them were looked at by Anya with begrudging respect. Wells had found Anya looking at him and Raven the same way. Respect.

It was disgraceful that these people only respected strength. Just because someone was strong, it didn't make them worthy to be a leader. But Wells didn't want to debate leadership with the Grounders. He just wanted to get his sister back. Besides Raven and a few others, Clarke was the only reason why he had stayed in camp at all instead of running off himself, not wanting to be reminded of what happened in the Mountain. He stayed because he knew Clarke would have wanted him to. Whatever her reason, Wells knew that Clarke had a good one for leaving. Even if he _had_ been resentful for months for her leaving. But he came to understand two months ago.

Clarke had _needed_ to leave.

Captured by the Ice Nation or not, leaving had been what Clarke had _needed_ at the time.

Wells wasn't going to judge her for that. He just wanted her safe. He looked back to Raven, who had started to eat. Wells withheld any words that might spring forth. He hadn't wanted to say anything back at camp, since he knew that Raven would not stand for it. But a part of him had been worried about Raven coming with them. He knew damn well that Raven hated it when people were overbearing to her. But Wells had been worried. From the things he had heard about the Azgeda and from Raven's injuries months ago, it just made him feel like he was going to have a stress attack or something, thinking about it.

The few times at Arkadia when Wells had bothered being out of his bunk, that didn't involve the decisions he had to be a part of on the council, had involved making sure that Raven was eating and was comfortable. It was one of the few times that Wells ever socialized at all or was ever out of his bunk. He understood why it brought concern from everyone, to Abby, Octavia, Lincoln, Kane, to Raven herself. But it had never succeeded in getting him out of his bunk for longer than he needed to be. This was a rare occasion. It was nice to smell the sea air. But he was only here because he had to be. For Clarke's sake.

"If it was any of our other people that was caught by the Ice Nation," Wells began carefully, looking at Raven with curiosity, "Would you have gone?" He wasn't sure why he had asked. Maybe to make himself feel better for knowing deep in his bones, whether he liked it or not, that if it were anyone else in Clarke's situation right now, Kane, Octavia, Finn who had broken both Clarke and Raven's hearts, but especially Bellamy, Wells would not even lift a finger to help them. Unless of course, it was Raven. If Raven had been caught by the Azgeda, Wells would have been out of the camp, heading to the docks just as quickly as he had when he had learned of Clarke's capture. Raven lifted her head, eyes narrowing. "Depends on the person." Raven admitted, much to Wells's surprise. He had been sure she would have said yes, but this was a surprise for him.

Raven added, seeming to absorb Wells's startled look, snickering, "No offense, but if I heard your dad was in the Ice Nation, I'd say 'good riddance.'" Wells couldn't help a small laugh. He heard chuckling next across from him and Fox, coming from Harper, who nodded back. Fox agreed quietly, "Yeah, no offense, Wells."

Wells waved a hand back. "None taken." He didn't care. He knew what his father was. And knew how inhuman the man's decisions had been. He had been a tyrant at best. There was no help for that. "But," Raven added, looking at Wells, "If it was _you_ that was taken by the Ice Nation, then yeah, I'd go." Wells blinked, startled, mouth dropping at this admission. Harper nodded next to Raven. "Yeah, so would I." Fox said, looking at Wells with affection in her eyes. Wells stared at his three companions and nodded, feeling warm inside. It was silly and childish, he knew, but hearing these affirmation of him being one of them always made him feel safe. Made him feel like he belonged.

His whole life on the Ark, he had been avoided by other kids because of who his father had been, but here, where he had the chance to prove he cared about his people and that he'd stand by their side in battle, the rest of the 100 saw him as family too. He smiled at the others.

It was good to know. That despite the fact that he hated most of the people on the council, barring Raven, Lincoln, Gina and Abby, he still belonged with these people.

Even Charlotte who had actually tried to kill him once, had come to see him as part of the group. It was why he had had to tell her over and over again back at camp that Charlotte was _not_ coming with them to the Ice Nation when the Commander had come for them. Charlotte had gotten better as a fighter thanks to Lincoln's lessons, but she was still a kid. The youngest of the 100. He had practically ordered some of the other kids back at camp, Owen and Peony to make sure that Charlotte didn't follow them out of camp and make sure that the youngest of their number stayed where she was. Charlotte had grown attached to him since he had protected her from Murphy, _and_ had defended Charlotte when Clarke had become furious that the girl had tried to kill her friend.

To be fair, what had happened with Murphy was mostly on Wells, and he knew that. When Charlotte had injured Wells, only stabbing his right arm, because Wells got out of the way in time of Charlotte's knife, seeing the blade just in time, Wells knew he had to come up with something. So when asked about his injury by Clarke, Finn and Octavia, Wells knew that he needed to give an answer fast and he wouldn't endanger Charlotte. She was just a child. So he had blamed Murphy. The obvious choice. Someone who had threatened to kill him more than once. Since the moment they had reached Earth.

And then hell had broken loose. Wells had been too horrified by what he had unleashed by blaming Murphy and had been unable to do or say anything when the mob had gathered to hang Murphy for a murder attempt he wasn't even guilty for, Bellamy being the thug he was had decided that Murphy's life meant nothing when compared to "giving the people what they wanted" so that they remained loyal to him, and then Charlotte had confessed, just wanting it to stop.

Then a chaotic run around the forest, being chased by Murphy, Myles and Connor that had lasted up to four hours at least had taken place. Murphy wanting Wells dead was nothing new, and Wells knew even then that it was well deserved because of what had almost happened to him. But Murphy had wanted Charlotte too. So Wells had grabbed Charlotte and run. When Murphy and his goons had caught up with them, Charlotte had tried to throw herself off a cliff to protect him and Clarke from Murphy. But Wells had grabbed her just in time, pulling her back, ignoring the pain in his right arm as he did it. The next minutes had been loud, hectic and had gone by so fast that Wells still had a hard time of understanding what happened. An enraged Finn had attacked Murphy and had beaten the boy nearly to death for threatening Clarke, till Clarke had said that they should exile Murphy out of desperation to save the thug's life. Wells wasn't sure he'd have agreed with that decision, even though he knew it was his fault that Murphy had almost died. But he had just wanted to get that night over with.

So both he and Finn had threatened to kill Murphy if they ever saw him again. And Wells had made sure to tell Connor and Myles that if they had any problems with this, he was going to have Bellamy exile Murphy too for trying to kill a little girl. So they had left a bedraggled Murphy in the woods, an injured Wells carrying a shocked Charlotte off back to camp.

When that idiot who tried to act like he owned the camp, Bellamy finally found them, he had been wandering around the woods, not sure where they were and Wells had told him, coldly and without giving any other option that Murphy had been exiled and would remain that way. Wells had then, and Wells had been sure even then that he had done it out of spite, had sneered at Bellamy, wondering if Bellamy would like everyone in camp to know that Bellamy would be letting Murphy back onto camp after nearly murdering a nine-year-old girl. That had naturally destroyed any arguments that Bellamy might have had about the matter. He had agreed to exile.

It had been then agreed that discourse and lawlessness in the camp couldn't be allowed for much longer. There _had_ to be rules put in place unless they wanted murder to become normalized and go unpunished in their group. A fuming Bellamy had been enraged that Jaha's son of all people had suggested it, but in the end had agreed. So he, Wells, Finn, Clarke and Octavia had formed their own council for a time.

And Charlotte had never left Wells's side since then.

This would the first time since Wells had been captured by Mount Weather that Charlotte and him would be separated. She had pleaded and pleaded to let her come with him to the Ice Nation, but he didn't want Charlotte going anywhere _near_ that place. He hadn't wanted to leave the girl in the camp with _Bellamy,_ but Charlotte going near the Ice Nation was not an option. It was bad enough when they had been held captive by people that had tried to take their bone marrow, but to go to a place where they pulled out your bones for something as small as stealing, or would skin you alive for trying to escape the queen's hands, Wells couldn't risk Charlotte's life. Not there.

So he had left a tearful Charlotte in the care of the rest of the 100 and the rest of the Ark people. He just hoped she'd forgive him for doing it.

A thought came to Wells and he tried to ignore the sting that came with the thought. "And Wick?" He pushed, looking at Raven as her eyes burned, looking back at him. "Kyle Wick? If _he_ was the one that was taken?" Wells knew he shouldn't have asked that, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to know for sure that Wick and Raven were over. Wick always gave Wells a bad feeling. Always. He reminded him too much of Bellamy. There was just something wrong with Wick. Hell, Wells trusted Finn way, way more with Raven than he ever trusted Raven being alone with Wick. Raven scowled and shook her head. "I don't know. I wouldn't _want_ him to be taken, but I don't think I'd go across the sea for him. Not like if it was you, Finn, O or one of the others taken."

Wells fought a smirk, nodding. That piece of information shouldn't have satisfied him as much as it did. But he found himself rather pleased knowing that.

Raven said something next that made Wells's stomach twist in freezing knots, "Do we think that Clarke is still alive?" As soon as she said it, Wells, Harper and Fox froze up, eyes wide. Scowling down at her food, Raven shook her head. "Never mind. Forget I said anything." Wells's teeth ground together. That wasn't an option he could let himself think for long. Clarke being dead? Or almost dead when they got there? No way. He wouldn't believe it. If the Azgeda had killed Clarke, he'd start shooting. He didn't give a damn about peace if Clarke was hurt.

 **(Page break)**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke hadn't even realized when night had fallen. The sky was black when she, Paul, Lorena and Finley exited the training hall, Finley being relieved of her duty watching Mathias and Martin taking her place, she had actually been genuinely surprised to see that it was night time, despite the many dockings of the candles, the candles just melting and melting. But there it was. Clarke's mind had been in a daze of disturbing memories and Emerson. Then again, disturbing memories and Emerson, that was redundant, wasn't it? She had said a hesitant goodnight to her friends and had gone off to Ontari's chambers.

While she didn't always go to Ontari's chambers, not even after their relationship had really started, it hadn't even needed to be said after Ontari had told Clarke about Emerson. They both knew that Clarke _needed_ to be with Ontari tonight after such news.

Clarke went up the stairs of her chamber. Farron had said his goodnights, even though Clarke knew that the boy wanted to sleep next to her. He had gone off to Glenn's room to snuggle with the older boy. Clarke and all the others refused to let Farron go back to his father's home. Farron's father was the human embodiment of abuse. They made sure that Farron stayed away from Tenmar. Whenever Tenmar got close, any member of the twenty-six that was nearby made sure to never leave the man and Farron alone together. Bailey had once even hinted to Tenmar's face that she would remove the man's hands if he ever laid them upon his son again. And Mario, who had been with Bailey and Farron at the time had threatened to cut off something…a bit lower.

That had been three months ago, and Clarke had never been prouder of Bailey and Mario for such an action.

Farron had come to see everyone in the twenty-six as his family as much as he came to see Clarke as his family. Farron saw the other orphans, Linden, Lane, Kadin, Zane, and Faye as his family too. He saw Aron and Micah as family too.

The only misfortune when it came to Aron was that they all knew that Aron wasn't to be trusted. Aron respected Clarke and Ontari and all of the twenty-six, (as much as she could respect the twenty-six). But at the end of the day, Aron was loyal to the queen and only loyal to the queen. As was Micah. Because both Aron and Micah had their own families that were well taken care of by the queen, the two girls had learned most of their loyalty from their families and so would only care about the queen's rule. It made Clarke sad. She loved Aron and Micah. She respected their parents. But Clarke knew that should Micah or Aron ever hear even a word of the plans that Clarke, Ontari, the twenty-six and their allies were hatching, both children would run to the queen in a heartbeat.

It was sad, but that was why Clarke and the others had had Farron swear not to breathe a word of their plans to either Aron or Micah. Farron hadn't liked it, but he had sworn and he had meant it.

Clarke moved up the steps, grateful that Farron had accepted that she couldn't be with him right now. She loved him. Wanted to hold him at night, knowing he felt safer with her. He had even started to sleep between her and Ontari at times, after Farron began to realize that Ontari would not punish him for being in the bed with them. The queen excused it. As long as she thought that Farron and Clarke were loyal to her, then she didn't care. She didn't realize the danger that was starting to grow right beneath her nose. But Clarke didn't want Farron with them tonight. She didn't want him to see her the way she was right now. It wasn't good for him to see her like this. If she could help it, Farron would never know about Emerson or that the last Mountain Man was even here.

Clarke reached Ontari's room, knocking against it with her right fist.

The answer was almost immediate. She heard the latch being pulled up and the door opened up.

Ontari awaited Clarke on the other side of the door, looking back at the other young woman with an unsurprised, and saddened look on her face. She moved aside, letting Clarke into the room and closing the door behind them, sighing as a hesitant Klark turned to her.

There was a lit up fireplace at their back, filling the room with heat. The ravines carved around the room were filled with burning coals. And burning coals were stuffed into the basins of stone bowls upon pedestals in the vast room, providing all the warmth both women would need.

"How angry at me are you right now?" Clarke asked, not meeting Ontari's dark eyes. She had been furious, bloodthirsty even when she had decided she would kill and torture for the first time, unleashing all her anger and rage on Emerson eventually. She was _still_ planning it. But she knew how she must have sounded to Ontari. Especially since Ontari had told her in order to help her mentally defend herself against when she'd have to eventually face Emerson in the dungeon, and the inevitable onslaught of terrible memories that would assail her as a result.

Ontari had told her about Emerson to warn her, and Clarke had given in completely to the thought of releasing all her demons on Emerson as soon as he was offered to her on a silver platter. All those months of resisting the queen in the shadows had seemed to be for naught after what Clarke had said, after what she had decided, promised to herself even, what she was going to do to the last Mountain Man, first chance she got. Clarke had been half tempted to bring Ontari those pink flowers that Ontari had brought her as a way of trying to get her to forgive the Azgeda woman. When Ontari had asked if Finley could be trusted with the eventual revolt, Clarke had been furious and had ignored Ontari. As a way of trying to get Clarke to forgive her, Ontari must have asked one of the twenty-six what she could do. Next, Ontari had shown up with a few pink flowers and an apologetic look on her face. It had been a genuine surprise for Clarke, since she hadn't expected the heir to the Ice Queen of all people to be groveling, secondly, she knew that flowers were hard to come by in this climate and thirdly, because Grounders didn't understand the significance of flowers for the Ark people. Which was why Clarke had known that Ontari _had_ to have gone to one of the twenty-six for council.

It had struck Clarke as all three bizarre, hilarious and charming.

It was why she felt like she should be offering a few flowers by now. Or at least an apology.

Ontari shook her head, stepping closer. "Not at all. I'm not angry at you at all. I understand." Ontari stepped close and slipped her arms around the other, placing her head against Klark's shoulder, leaning in and gently kissing the other's throat.

 _I'm just sad for you._

It wasn't said, but both Ontari and Klark heard it, and knew that that was what Ontari didn't say. Clarke sighed, burying her face in Ontari's neck, hugging the Azgeda woman close, aware of the heat that was stirring in her stomach and between her legs. "I'm sorry." She whispered, hands clenching into Ontari's shoulders, "For hurting you. I'm sorry." She felt Ontari nod against her. "It's alright. And it's not _me_ I'm worried about." Ontari pulled away, looking at Klark, looking into the other's blue eyes sadly. She slipped her right hand over the left side of Klark's face, fingers curling, knuckles brushing tenderly against Klark's cheek, the bumps of Klark's scar touching her fingers.

"I know." Clarke said, regret in her voice, hating what she was doing to Ontari right now. "But this has to be done. He can't hurt my people again." Ontari shook her head, " _Our_ people. Then let _me_ do it, Klark." Ontari gave Klark a look of determined steel, her eyes demanding that Klark give her this task, "I'll end him in a second. He won't be any concern to you ever again."

"And risk the queen's wrath?" Klark asked, pulling back only a bit to look at Ontari skeptically, "She wants a show, Ontari. She wants to see me torture him. And if he dies fast, she'll know something's wrong. And remember, she's threatened the twenty-six in the past when I didn't torture when she said to do it." Ontari showed not emotion on her face when she spoke next, "Is that really the reason why you're going to do this? Or do you really _want_ to torture the man that hurt the Sky People so much?"

Klark seemed unsettled at the question and Ontari knew that she had pressed the issue that Klark hadn't wanted to talk about. The fact that Klark actually _wanted_ to kill and torture this time. Klark averted her eyes again from Ontari, but the Azgeda woman gently pushed Klark's face to her, forcing the blonde's eyes back to the other woman. "Klark, I _understand,"_ Ontari emphasized. "I do. When we eventually," Ontari's voice lowered carefully, "When we take control, I know that we'll _have_ to kill the queen. If only to make sure there isn't competition for the throne. But I know that a part of me...even if I do love her," Ontari voiced her words carefully sucking in a breath as Klark absorbed this information, "A part of me wishes, has always wished for her death. For taking me from my family. For making me into a monster. For using me to slaughter millions."

Klark nodded, wincing. This wasn't the first time Ontari had confessed to such feelings, even though Ontari of her own admission, _was_ grateful for the extended life she had, which she would not have had, had the people of Polis discovered Ontari. She knew that Ontari had a complicated relationship at best with her adoptive mother, queen Nia.

She loved her. But at the same time knew with unyielding knowledge that Nia's death could not be quick and did not deserve to be quick.

And Clarke suspected that Ontari didn't _want_ Nia's death to be quick. Not after everything the queen had done to all of them.

"I do understand," Ontari repeated. "I understand because I know what some bloodthirsty part of me wants for my mother. I know. But think about what you're about to do, Klark. You'll be giving into what Nia wants. You'll be letting the worst part of yourself out. You'll actually be _enjoying_ torturing a living person. Even if he deserves more than anyone else in the world."

Clarke shook her head. "What are you saying, Ontari? Do you think after I torture Emerson I'll just switch over to Nia's side? That's not going to happen." "That isn't-" Ontari sighed, voice dropping as she closed her eyes, trying to find a better way of explaining what she meant to her entarg, "That isn't what I mean, Klark." Ontari's eyes opened as she locked them with the other young woman's. "I know you'll never side with her. But if you do this? Do it and enjoy it, relish in the pain you cause another living being…it's going to change you. I don't want to lose you."

Clarke scoffed, thinking over what Ontari was saying. Hadn't she already changed enough after Mount Weather and all the villages she had sacked over only a few months? Clarke was certain that changing any more than she already had wasn't really possible. She was already a heartless monster. She had been the moment she had pulled that lever and slaughtered hundreds of children in the Mountain. "You won't lose me." Clarke answered, and added with more sadness than she could help, arms lowering to Ontari's arms and squeezing them gently. "You can't lose someone who's already lost all their innocence."

Ontari shook her head, leaning forward, scarred forehead up against Klark's, "You haven't lost all your innocence. And that isn't what I meant. You know that. You're still noble. You still love unconditionally. You still love with all your heart." Ontari brought her other hand to the other side of Clarke's marked face, her hands sliding up to the back of Clarke's head, pressing them closer together, locking their lips close.

Ontari clasped her arms to Clarke's elbows, guiding them towards the bed. They dropped down onto it, Ontari straddling Klark's leg, the blonde's leg grinding against Ontari's vagina, Ontari's hand sliding down to cup Klark's own cunt roughly, still kissing the other, fingers clenching around where she felt Klark's heated core through the fur, feeling around enough.

 **(Page break)**

 **Arkadia**

That night had not been fun. Peony and Andrew had been running around the camp all night.

Owen circled the camp and finally stopped yelling the name of the youngest of the 100 when he saw his friends up ahead. "Peony! Andrew! Did you find her?!" Andrew, a lanky, brown-haired teenager that only a week ago had passed his eighteenth birthday and had been sent to the ground in the 100's dropship for stealing rations, walked forward, keeping his lit torch high. He shook his head. "No." He answered, voice weak, "Kane and Bellamy are looking all over the other side of camp. Gina's checking Charlotte's quarters." Andrew hesitated and added, "There's something else."

At Owen's inquiring look, Andrew answered, "Finn? He's missing too. They both are."

Owen, the third oldest of the remaining 100 blanched, eyes wide. Why would Finn also be…

Wait.

"Son of a bitch." Owen growled, glaring over the camp. "Finn and Charlotte followed the others to the docks."

"What?" Miller's astounded voice came from one of the fires that had been set up for food and he came forward, staring at Owen, "Are you fucking serious?! You're telling me Finn and a ten-year-old girl are going after a bunch of savages to the docks to go to that Ice Nation place with even worse savages?!"

"Nathan," Miller's father chastised quietly, though he too was aghast by what he was hearing. But Owen's conclusion was hard to dispute. They had looked all over the place. The bunks. Where Monty tended to drink himself to sleep, startling the sleeping boy awake and making the drunkard part of the search, to every inch of the camp, to the area around the camp. And Finn had taken Charlotte from Owen and Peony, claiming that he'd make sure that she would stay put.

Meaning he was the last person that saw her.

And now they both were gone.

"No way," Peony argued, "Even Finn wouldn't be that stupid."

Peony's words sounded foolish, even to her. Because everyone in the area knew the truth. Yes, Finn _would_ be that stupid. And Charlotte must have gotten him to take her with him.

"Man," Andrew groaned, "Bell's gonna kill us when he gets back from the forest."

"Um," Peony said, eyes narrowed and worry in her voice with her next words, "Doesn't this mean we only have like three people on the council now? With Finn gone too?"

Owen looked like he was about to flip as he growled, "Just great. Man, we're fucked." He had been saying that a _lot_ since he and the other 100 landed in that dropship around here, hadn't he?

 **(Page break)**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Sleep was not going to come easily, Raven could tell this already as she saw the swaying pieces of thick cloth that were the hammocks that people were going to sleep in for the night. She suspected that the captain and of course the great Commander, Raven had to roll her eyes whenever she thought of that woman, and that they were actually going along with what the woman said, were going to be sleeping in stable beds. But the rest of them got swaying hammocks. Great.

Raven had put her bag of bombs away with the rest of the weapons in the cabin. Raven just needed to get over to the hammock and maneuver herself over into one. Not so hard, right? She had slept in hammocks before in Arkadia. Just…not ones that were swinging back and forth on waves.

A curious Sterling had been looking around the cabin, till he got to one hammock and jumped in immediately, kicking his shoes off onto the deck. "Yeah," Raven snorted, pushing her cane against the deck and holding her hand out in case she needed to steady herself against the wall as the ship rocked, "take your shoes off. It's not like the rest of us have to smell your feet." "Oh please," Sterling laughed, propping himself up a little on his right elbow against the hammock's edge, left hand gripping the red apple he had taken with him from dinner, "This ship already smells like thousands of animals have shit in it. Who cares?"

He took a couple of bites out of the apple, still grinning.

"Clearly _you_ don't." Wells said dryly, making it over to one of the hammocks. He glanced to his right at Anya who was nodding goodbye to her Commander who walked off and Anya, with startling grace, got up into the hammock in seconds. She had a knife close to her, her eyes closing but her body never fully losing its tenseness. Wells tried not to snort at how comical that was. It wouldn't be so comical if Anya was coming after him, but still he wondered if how Clarke had ever gotten Anya to be calm. Because he knew that she could. He had seen them around each other. Anya had been surprisingly calm with Clarke. Wells wasn't a mind reader, but he had almost been sure he had seen Anya look at Clarke with tenderness more than a few times instead of her cool, neutral expression. Then again, as he learned from Lincoln, Anya had actually come back to the Mountain like Lincoln had, unlike the Commander. Wells wanted to think that Anya could make choices independent of the Commander's orders, but he didn't want to push how much faith he had in the woman.

He then looked to Raven, trying to keep his head low so she didn't notice that he was watching her again. He knew she wouldn't appreciate it, but he watched anyway, making sure Raven got to one of the hammocks. Once she grabbed onto the nearest one and clung on, she pushed herself on her good leg and against her cane, hoisting her bad leg up, slipping it into the hammock first, then trying to pull herself up into it, unsuccessfully.

Wells was about to go over to her to help, but Lincoln and Octavia got there first, hoisting her up. Raven glowered at them, but gave them a quiet 'thank you.' Octavia and Lincoln went to their own hammock. Hammocks big enough to support two people came into view when Wells followed Octavia and Lincoln's figures over to the larger hammocks. He nodded, looking back to where Raven was lying. She'd be safe. Rocking ships could sometimes be soothing. Especially if you were lying down. It might be easier to help Raven get to sleep.

Wells couldn't even count the number of sleepless nights Raven had had thanks to either pain or nightmares. It was such a relief when Raven was able to sleep easy. Hopefully tonight would be one of those nights. Wells took one last careful look at her as Abby and the other 100 got in their hammocks, as did many of the Grounder warriors and Wells hopped into his own hammock.

A few minutes passed, Wells occasionally glancing at Raven's hammock and eventually he found between the quiet, save for the creaking of the ship, and the rocking motion the ship gave, swaying him back and forth, he found sleep coming fairly easy, until he heard a loud shout ripping through the air, making everyone jump up from their hammocks or cry out in alarm.

The shout was in a language that was not English. Wells understood it immediately though, thanks to Lincoln's Trigedasleng lessons.

"Stowaways! We have stowaways! Two of 'em! A man! And a girl of nine or ten! Everyone above deck! We have stowaways!"

All of the Grounders were up at the ready. Anya, Lincoln, Octavia and loads of other Grounders were out of their hammocks, their blades drawn. Wells tried not to groan. Stowaways? Really? God, what was happening now?

 **Author's note:**

 **Kodee: Cody**

 **If I haven't made it obvious enough, yes, Wells has feelings for Raven.**

 **And don't get upset about me cutting off the Ontari and Clarke scene. I'll write in more of it in the next chapter. Also, it's going to be rated M next chapter, because I've been pushing the envelope a lot, seeing what I can get away with, with only a T rating, but I suspect in the hypocritical societies that exist around the world, including my own, a few lopped off heads are fine, but two perfectly healthy grown up human beings having consensual sex would end with me being yelled at by this site, so I'll rate it M next chap so keep that in mind.**

 **And it always gives me joy to write Bellboy as a worthless idiot. Because let's face it, that's what he is and always will be. I meant what I said in a previous chapter, I couldn't trust a Bellamy, Blaven, Bellarke or Bellamurphy fan as far as I could throw them. Have fun with those abusive relationships you're fantasizing about.**

 **And I always laugh when people say that Bellboy and Clarke's relationship would be unconventional on TV because Bellboy is Filipino. That literally is the most hilarious excuse you could have for them being together. Tell another one, please, I haven't had my full dose of laughs yet. Your point?**

 **You know what also would have been unconventional for all the white couples that tend to be on TV? RavenxClarke, AnyaxRaven, AnyaxClarke, AnyaxRavenxClarke, WellsxClarke, LexaxRaven, WellsxRaven, CalliexAbby, Lincoln staying alive in a relationship with Octavia (even though both he and Raven deserve a lot better than that abusive girl). (Not RavenxOctavia, since Raven deserves Sooo much better than such an abuser)**

 **All of these relationships would have been just as unconventional, but as Rothenberg hates lesbians, Asian women and straight black men and think that white men like Kyle Wick, Kane and Jasper and lighter skinned men like Bellboy and Monty are entitled to all women, regardless of race and sexuality, this was not the case. I don't know, Bellarkers, your arguments sound pretty hollow. Not to mention as selfish and unfeeling as you are. Then again, I guess you're trying to resemble your idol, Bellamy. If that's what you're trying to do, you're doing a fantastic job. Now all you need to do is try to cut off a young girl's hand and claim you're just trying to protect someone else. Oh and never take responsibility, because that's basically Bellboy in a nutshell.**

 **Whining and moaning like the pushovers you are of "ooh, Filipino man," at the end of the day doesn't help your case, it's just saying that Rothenberg was smart enough to put in diversity to "act" like he was open-minded, even though he murdered lesbians, black men and Asian women. See what he was doing? He made it seem like he was progressive by having a murderous man be one of the main characters and just have him be Filipino, and have a gay black character survive even though straight black men die and lesbians die. He pretends he's progressive, when at the end of the day he created those characters, just to murder them. And he uses Bellboy's race as a way of pretending he's progressive. Bellboy is his trophy for pretending he's progressive, even though his views on women's and their sexuality and black men are garbage.**

 **This show, thanks to Rothenberg is basically a pile of rotting, steaming, stinking garbage, designed to _look_ better than it is. All thanks to Rothenberg. And Bellboy is at the middle of the rotting heap. He's the mascot of "Aren't I a progressive writer?" Rothenberg.**

 **Let's make something clear, Bellarkers and Blaven fans by the end of the day only care about one person in those relationships. Bellamy. They** **don't care about either Raven or about Clarke. They don't even register Raven and Clarke as human beings with feelings and choices. As far as they're concerned, they don't care about either of those women's choices. They say they do, but subconsciously, I don't really think so. Which is where my distrust comes from. How trustworthy can people like that be with women's feelings or safety in the real world? Or the choices of fellow women and girls in their life, when it comes to the boyfriends that their friends have? Like I've said in the past, we've all met a Bellamy. He's that toxic male you all know. And Bellarkers and Blavens and the like strike me as the type that would defend that kind of behavior if it comes from a man or boy in the real world.**

 **All Bellarker fans care about is their violent, monstrous prince that they get to parade around like Rothenberg, singing "ooh, progressive, Filipino man gets away with anything, suffers so much, waah, so progressive, waaah, I'm not a sheep at all."**

 **Well, there's more venting off my chest, wipes hands as another Holy Hand Grenade has been flung.**

 **Predator9401: Oh, um, sorry, what were you saying? My ability to maintain any cordiality towards Bellboy fans kind of flushed down the toilet a long time ago. Sorry. I know that you had something important and meaningful to tell me. No, seriously, I did know you had something important to tell me, and I respect it, but I couldn't focus over the sound of Rothenberg and his Bellboy's sheep fangirls' bullshit, so I'm blatantly ignoring the "no rant" advise, even if it sounds like pretty good advise.**

 **Seriously, who could have patience with Bellarkers and any kind of Bellamy fans? I don't have patience for such lack of intelligence and overwhelming sense of entitlement those particular fans have. Seriously, do you think that sack of abusive shit is all you deserve? Do you think that's a sack of shit _anyone_ deserves? Do you have so little self-esteem that all it takes is an abusive cute man to make you roll over and support him?**

 **Do you Bellamy fans have so little self-worth that you think men, or should I say, man-babies like him are all you deserve? It's truly sad and disturbing. Let's make something clear, Bellarke fans only care about one of the two people in that relationship. Bellboy. The sooner, Bellarkers and Bellamy fans admit that, the sooner they can come to terms with the fact that they're misogynists. I can literally picture Bellboy fans cutting down other women verbally to try to get the attentions of a man in the real world. At the very least, be honest with yourselves about what you really care about.**

 **Ugh. Throws another Holy Hand Grenade. Ignore that explosion. And the cow being flung by a catapult. Ignore that. And ignore the comical "moo" noise traveling overhead. Don't be surprised when the fart and hamster insults start to be unloaded.**


	12. The Persistence of Sky People

**Enkmenessa: Thank you. And Happy New Year to you too!**

 **Lalcalde1000: Oh boy, wait for it. Just imagine how tense _that_ little reunion is going to be.**

 **Trigger warnings for mentions of violence and torture.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 12: The Persistence of Sky People:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Ontari's tongue caressed against Clarke's, coaxing it into her mouth, sucking at the muscle. Clarke moaned into Ontari's mouth, hips bucking up to meet Ontari's flicks of her fingers against her clit.

Clarke wrapped her arms around Ontari's back, allowing Ontari to straddle the other woman's leg properly, grinding herself against Klark's leg again, the Azgeda woman pulling her face from Clarke's, head lowering to Clarke's neck and biting the blonde's throat, tongue slipping out and licking around the bite, both women panting.

Ontari lifted herself back, her right hand continuing right with what it was doing, massaging away with her fingers and with her other hand pulled Clarke's white fur garments from the other young woman's right, scarred shoulder, revealing the warrior marks burned into them. Ontari leaned down, body flush against Clarke's once more and mouth clasping over the skin of Clarke's shoulder, biting hard and licking at all of the raised skin of the scars and the few small patches of unmarked bare skin. As she kissed her way down to Klark's chest, pulling more of the fur away, rewarded for her actions, and for what she was doing below Klark's belt with Klark's whimpers, her right hand for once was removed from Clarke's cunt and both her hands grabbed Klark's arms and brought them up above Klark's head, pinning them there and squeezing the other's hands as she pulled back, staring into Klark's hazed over blue eyes. "Promise me you won't enjoy killing or torturing the Mountain Man."

It was a lowly thing to do and Ontari knew it. She was holding Klark in the throes of pleasure and she was making Klark promise her something like this. It was underhanded, but Ontari was desperate.

Klark groaned, glaring up at Ontari but shook her head, still. "I can't promise that." Klark panted. "And you know that." Ontari winced and nodded. She hated it, but she knew it was the truth. Klark couldn't _force_ herself not to hate the Mountain Man. And she couldn't force herself not to enjoy the possibility of torturing him. Clarke might hide them well, but she couldn't stop her emotions from existing. And one way or another, the Ice Queen would find a way of coercing Klark into torturing the man. There was not much either of them could do about this.

Ontari just nodded, saying nothing else. What else was there to say? Ontari kept her left hand on Klark's wrists, keeping the other young woman's hands above her head on the bed. Her right hand went to her own garments and peeled back the furs from her body, revealing the tight fitted, black, silk shirt with patches that were see-through, revealing Ontari's taut stomach and shoulders. Ontari shucked out of her clothing around her upper torso, undoing her belt and pulling her shirt up, her eyes never breaking contact with Klark's.

"You keep your arms right there." Ontari ordered. Klark smirked but obeyed, nodding. Only then did Ontari remove her other hand from Klark's wrists, both her hands pulling her shirt up successfully over her head and tossing it over onto the foot of the bed with the other garments. Ontari maneuvered her legs, straddling Klark's waist now instead of the blonde's legs, her groin up against the other's, both women letting loose gasps. Ontari slid her body over onto Klark's, the black-haired woman's own scarred and symbol marked body flush against Klark's. Ontari kissed Klark's scarred right cheek, then the other's cracked lips, slipping her tongue into the blonde's mouth again.

Clarke grinded herself upwards against Ontari's vagina, thrusting hard, making sure the other felt the pressure. She heard Ontari groan into her mouth, making the blonde smile into the kiss. Ontari pulled away, only to turn her attention to Klark's throat, teeth biting into a pulse point. Klark gasped, arching back into the bed. Ontari continued to bite, pulling her body back only a little so that she had enough room for her hands to go to Klark's garments, pulling them back from Klark's upper torso. When Klark's furs were off her chest, Klark lifting herself up so Ontari could slide them down her back, Klark finally pulled her arms down, moving to her shirt and trying to lift it up, till Ontari pulled back and growled softly, "What did I say before?"

Klark's hands froze and Ontari removed her hands from Klark's garments, going back to the blonde's hands and pinning them up above Klark's head. Ontari's left hand remained where it was, but her right went down to Klark's chest, cupping the blonde's left, clothed breast, squeezing, flicking her thumb over the nipple and moving her mouth to Klark's other breast, mouth over the nipple, biting hard. Klark groaned, arching upwards again, heated cunt grinding up again into Ontari's.

Ontari moved her hand from Klark's breast to the bottom of the blonde's shirt, pulling it up, only removing her mouth from Klark's other breast when she was pulling the other's shirt off. Klark lifted herself enough to allow the shirt to be pulled over her head, Ontari releasing Klark's arm, Klark pulling her arm out of the sleeve of the shirt and Ontari tossed the garment over the edge of the head of the bed, going back to concentrate on Klark.

Ontari smirked as her night black hair spilled over onto Klark's chest, tickling her, making her gasp. Ontari's mouth clasped again over the stiff nipple she had been paying attention to before, hand going back to work on the other breast. Her left arm slid up to the back of Klark's head, grabbing the blonde's hair and pulling harshly. She heard Klark's breath hitch more and her hips bucked again in approval. Ontari's teeth bit down harder around the tip of Klark's pink bud, bringing Klark to cry out louder.

Ontari shifted, going to sit along Klark's legs, hands releasing Klark's hair and breast, head moving down to Klark's now toned stomach, biting at it hard and letting her teeth scrape against the other woman's ribcage, her tongue darting out and slipping into the blonde's bellybutton, causing Klark to whimper, hands gripping the furs beneath her. Ontari started pulling on Klark's heavy fur pants, undoing the belt around Klark's waist and removing it pulling her mouth from Klark's navel. Klark lifted her rear off the bed, allowing Ontari to take her pants off and Ontari shifted back more, off of Klark's legs, pulling Klark's pants down fully.

Klark was now totally naked, muscled legs from calves to knees to outer thighs and her right ankle marked with whip marks and brands from punishments and the honor awarding of a war hero, and knife marks from battle.

Ontari smiled, pushing Klark's pants aside and grabbed Klark's legs by their calves, one leg in each hand and dragged Klark close, chuckling at the smirk she had thrown her way by Klark. She pushed the other's legs open by the knees, lying between them, sending Klark a devilish grin that was shared with the blonde. Ontari met Klark's eyes. "Ready?" Ontari asked. Klark nodded, smirking, "Why are you even waiting? Can't you tell that I want you?" Klark spread her legs wide, letting Ontari get close to the other young woman's cunt, seeing the moisture that was beginning to fall out of the folds. Ontari held Klark's thighs tight, smiling darkly and looked up at Klark. Klark nodded and Ontari held Klark's thighs to by her head, on her shoulders, biting down hard on Klark's inner thigh.

Klark hissed, gripping the furs, head flung back. Ontari's mouth released Klark's leg and she crept closer to Klark's heated center, her own cunt grinding hard against the furs below her, making her groan, hips bucking against the bed, the enticing, musky but sweet smell that Ontari was so familiar with, flowing from the golden-haired beauty's fold only spurring her desire and her need.

She scraped her nails along Klark's thighs, clawing them as she stretched her neck out, tongue slipping out and licking at Klark's folds. The reaction was immediate and nearly made Ontari cum. Klark screamed, her back slamming down onto the bed, her hips bucking. Ontari smirked, turning her head to Klark's right inner thigh, biting it before nuzzling it and moving her face closer to Klark's vagina, licking her tongue over Klark's clit, bringing another scream from the other woman. Ontari held Klark's legs close and made sure her hips were held down, mouth closing over Klark's clit, sucking on it hard.

Klark's trembling and screaming reached a nonstop. Her hips were practically bucking off the bed. Her long cries and screams bounced around the thick walls of the room, and Ontari continued to suck and lick at the other woman's clit, her right hand getting close out from under Klark's leg, two of her fingers slipping into Klark's warm entrance. Klark's hips bucked harder with the assault and Ontari could feel Klark's pleasure beginning to peak. The young woman beneath her was beginning to crest, too bad Ontari wasn't planning on letting her have release, just yet.

Ontari kept her fingers inside Klark but didn't move them and opened her mouth, pulling her face away from Klark's clit. An anguished whimper was released into the room, making Ontari nuzzle Klark's inner thigh again. "Ontari," Klark groaned, "I swear if you stop, I'm going to-" Ontari chuckled, diving in again and taking a long lick at Klark's clit, continually licking up and down. Klark's screams were renewed along with the rapid bucking of the young woman's hips.

Ontari's fingers continued to slip in and out of Klark's tight channel, pausing from her licking to gently close her teeth around Klark's clit's tip. The shriek that left Klark's throat sounded like it could shatter the windows. Ontari could practically feel Klark's pleasure start to become too big for her to contain and just when she was sure Klark would reach her limit, she pulled her mouth away from Klark's groin again, pulling her fingers out.

Klark heaved out, "Ontari, please-"

Ontari flicked her thumb against Klark's clit before slipping her thumb into Klark's heat, churning it around, her mouth returning to Klark's nub and sealing her mouth over it and returning to sucking and licking at it nonstop, ignoring the heat building up between her own legs, begging for release of her own. Later. That could wait for later.

Ontari was relentless. She sucked on Klark's clit, lashing it with her tongue, sucking on it hard. Her right elbow against Klark's left leg and her left hand on Klark's hip kept the blonde from bucking the Azgeda woman off her. To her satisfaction, and spiking her own pleasure, Ontari felt Klark's hands grab her black hair, trying to push her closer, or just trying to keep her from moving away again, fingers digging into the back of Ontari's head.

Finally, Klark arched all the way off the bed, fingers clenching with remarkable, stiff force on Ontari's head, her throat hoarse with her loud, ripping screams that pierced the air, her legs clamped over Ontari's head, clamping against the dark-haired woman's ears, despite that, Klark's screams were heard as clear as an ice storm's howls. Ontari pulled her thumb out and thrust two of her fingers into Klark's heated hole again, pulling her mouth away enough, regardless of the grip Klark's legs had on her, for her to take some of her mouth off of Klark's clit. Enough for Ontari to rub the pad of her thumb against the end Klark's clit savagely.

Klark's inner walls squeezed, clenching around Ontari's fingers, Klark's hands buried in Ontari's hair were as stiff as boards. Ontari felt hot liquid touch her fingers, spilling out all over them, reaching her lips and thumb. Ontari pulled her fingers out and lowered her head, slipping her tongue inside Klark, her fingers replacing her mouth on Klark's clit, still stimulating the woman under her, the burning heat between her own legs becoming unbearable.

Klark's shrieks were nonstop now, as were her thrusts. The blonde woman wrenched herself off the bed and collapsed like an earthquake against it, legs finally relaxing and her stiff grip on Ontari's head becoming slack.

Ontari was released but she wasn't done yet. Ignoring the heat between her own legs, Ontari licked at Klark's opening and slid her tongue in, pulling the hot muscle out only to drag it along the hot pink flesh of Klark's opening.

Klark screamed, body writhing, head thrashing back and forth as Ontari continued this torture, right thumb and index finger squeezing on Klark's clit roughly. Ontari didn't even give Klark time to react verbally, slamming her tongue into Klark's opening and licking at the beginning of Klark's channel.

Klark's shrieks tore from her throat and she sounded hoarse now. "Ontari!" She barely gasped out as she eventually succumb to her next orgasm that ripped through her, body arching off the bed again, neck bent back, blonde hair spilling over the end of the bed. Her hips bucked up harshly and she felt the release shatter her, her scream leaving her throat as she slammed back against the bed again, becoming boneless.

Her body twitched as she panted again and again. Her heart pounded repeatedly in her chest like it was trying to escape her body.

At last, Ontari pulled away from Klark's body, though hesitantly, slipping her arms and hand away, both of them and her mouth soaked. Not like she was complaining. She licked at some of the warm, wet substance at her lips, hands coming to the waist of her fur pants and pushing them down, kicking her boots off her legs and letting them fall to the floor. Her oversensitive clit brushed against the front of her pants as she pulled them down, but her body felt far too hot to where anything right now after that.

Clarke wanted to rest. But there was one thing that she knew. Ontari. She hadn't even been touched yet. Clarke tried to find her voice, tried to tell her lover that she wanted Ontari to crawl up and straddle her face, to ride her mouth, but she could barely feel the strength in her throat to speak. She felt pressure shift on the bed, and heard the bed creak before the pressure came off the bed and Clarke saw Ontari stand up, fully naked, walking to one of the shelves in the room.

Clarke tried to call out Ontari's name, but her throat was hoarse. When had Ontari taken off her pants? She took a breath and tried again. "Ontari? What are you doing?" Ontari turned her head over her shoulder and smirked at Clarke and Clarke would have blushed a couple of years ago when she saw what was on Ontari's mouth and lower jaw. Evidence of Clarke's pleasure. Glistening moisture. Moisture that Ontari proceeded to lick away and bring back into her mouth. Clarke would have blushed now as she once had two years ago, had she not gotten so used to the Grounders' freely sexual ways of life that she had already experienced with Lexa and Anya previously. Clarke's thoughts went dangerously close to Lexa and Anya again when Ontari answered her, "Just getting some water."

Clarke nodded, trying not to think about any of the heated nights she had spent with Lexa and Anya. Riding Anya's hand and face, Lexa laying between her legs and doing what Ontari had just done…except the way Lexa loved and the way Ontari loved couldn't have been more different. Lexa touched her in a way that made Clarke think that Lexa thought she'd break easily. Ontari loved desperately, fervently, like she _needed_ her. Anya had too, come to think of it. Clarke felt like kicking herself as soon as those thoughts surfaced. Anya's catlike grin flashed in her mind, the dark-skinned warrior above her, riding her lover's sex with her own, her clit grinding against Clarke's own, the both of them cumming as Anya held Clarke's hands above her head. Lexa's tender touches along her side as she tangled her legs with Clarke's, Clarke's leg going further upwards towards Lexa's cunt, grinding.

Clarke pushed the thoughts away, along with the heavy, cold sense of loss. They had abandoned her. Whatever her feelings for them, she couldn't trust them. They had proven how trustworthy they were. She mentally cursed Emerson. Him being here brought more than a few troubling memories back for different reasons. She had to get rid of these thoughts. Having Emerson here wasn't good. For more than one reason.

Ontari grabbed a wide, tall glass of water and brought it over to the bed, kneeling down, bringing it to Clarke's lips, her ebony hair falling past her pale shoulders, her right knee on the floor, sweat dripping down her body, clear as day in the light of all the fires around them. "Sit up." Ontari said in a calm, but commanding voice.

Clarke did as she was told. Against all odds, her muscles that had become impressive over the months but now felt as useless and limp were willed by Clarke to push up against the bed. She sat up, exhausted and weak, elbows grounded to the bed, head lifted up as Ontari carefully poured the clear liquid down her lover's throat.

When Ontari was sure that Klark had drunk a good amount, till there was only half left in the glass, Ontari asked quietly if Klark wanted more and when Klark shook her head, Ontari downed the rest herself, more than aware that there were two more glasses of water. She had brought three from the basin in the main kitchen nearby just in case.

Ontari brought the glass back to the shelf and put it down. She smirked, the molten heat between her legs firing more powerfully when she heard Klark groan out, "Ontari, if you don't get your ass over here and put your cunt on my face soon, I am going to go over there and drag you back to bed."

Ontari chuckled, grinning, shoulders shaking. "I seriously doubt you have the strength to do that at the moment." Ontari said, walking over slowly, "But I won't keep you waiting any longer, kran in segara."

Seeing Klark lie back against the bed again, shivering pleasantly, whether because Ontari had just referred to her as "my love" or because Ontari was very deliberately walking slowly and smoothly back to the bed, making sure Klark was looking at much of her naked body as she could.

When Ontari was certain Klark was going to start threatening again out of sheer frustration, Ontari came to a stop next to the bed, smirking down at her lover. "You very much want me to straddle your face and ride you, do you, Klark?" Ontari teased. Klark smirked, fighting a glare. "You already know the answer to that. Get your butt over here." Ontari chuckled. Sky People had the strangest sayings. She was certain it wasn't just her "butt" that Klark wanted over on the bed, but Ontari was absolutely going to do what Klark demanded. "Alright. Since you're asking so honestly." She climbed onto the bed, left knee on the edge, a few inches from Klark's arm and the blonde reached for her as she maneuvered herself towards Klark's head.

Though her hands were shaky after what happened, Klark's grip was tight around Ontari's waist as the black-haired woman lowered herself onto Klark's face, a hungry look in Klark's eyes as Ontari's groin was planted over the Sky woman's mouth, tongue immediately darting out and lashing against Ontari's core, bringing a cry from the Azgeda heir as her arms gripped the silver bannister over the head of her bed, knees barely resting against the pillow where she was straddled, thighs shaking with Klark's administrations, a pure white sheet light wrapping itself over her vision as Klark licked at her clit again and again.

 **(Page break)**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Everyone was up on the cool air permeated deck in only a few minutes. Everyone who had weapons on them kept those weapons out quickly. Anya, Lincoln, Octavia and the rest off the Grounders had their blades out. Wells had grabbed the gun that he had taken from Arkadia out of his pack, loaded it with one of the magazines he had taken for the gun and pulled the safety off, rushing to the deck, making sure Raven was safely below before that. The crewmates of the ship, two of them ordered over to the passengers to show the Commander by Kint were dragging two figures with them.

The Commander, who had joined them as soon as they reached the deck, having gotten out of her quarters fast when she had heard the cries above deck, and had one of her swords out, had her eyes on the approaching shipmates, seeing that both men had these intruders. The torches slid into the metal pedestals grafted to the wood of the doorways and on the masts allowed Wells and the others to see who the shipmates were bringing over.

Getting a good look, Wells's shocked gasp joined with Raven's disbelieving hiss, after Wells heard three steps behind him, telling him Raven was walking up, the tapping of Raven's cane alerting him. "Finn?! Charlotte?! What the _hell_ are the two of you doing here?"

It was dark, but even if there had only been one lit torch, Wells could make out the thin but spry figure of Finn, cut short brown hair, wisp of a beard at his chin and all. And he certainly made out the small girl with him. He stared, eyes wide at the child who was looking up at him, bright, green eyes soft.

"Wells….." Charlotte said, and Wells almost immediately took the bullet magazine out of his gun, putting both the gun and its magazine into the baggy pockets of his pants and leaned down a little to get to Charlotte's level. "Charlotte," He said, voice thick with confusion. "What are you _doing_ here?" Charlotte struggled in the grasp of the man that had her till Wells heard the Commander order in Trigedasleng to "release the child." The man that had Charlotte released the girl, Charlotte lunging into Wells instantly, arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely.

"Wells," Charlotte whimpered, not even pulling back from the young man as he lifted Charlotte up off the deck, hugging her close in his arms, holding her up. He gave Raven and the Commander a confused stare over Charlotte's shoulder. He had no idea how Charlotte and Finn followed them here. There was actually only one way. There was a tracker right in front of him. He turned away from Charlotte and glared at Finn. "Collins," Wells grumbled, "You helped Charlotte _get_ here? You and the others were supposed to be protecting her." Finn shrugged, glowering, "Hey, it wasn't like I didn't think I needed to come with you guys too. I said I did. Charlotte just convinced me."

Wells scowled at Finn's smirk at those last words. Wells was going to assume that there wasn't much convincing needed in getting Finn to help the girl. "And you've been following us on foot?" The Commander asked evenly. "The whole way?" Wells looked at the dark-haired woman and noticed there was both a flicker of skepticism and amusement in her eyes before they disappeared.

"Well, yeah." Finn grumbled and Wells looked at him and then down at the girl in his arms, noticing how dirty their clothes were and that Charlotte's blonde hair was all messy. "I mean, we didn't have any horses or anything like that. So we were on foot the whole way. We've walked for longer. So we could do it. Just as long as we got to lie down in the cargo area of the ship where the stalls were, then we were fine. Because man, we needed to lie down after that." Finn offered the Commander a grin and Wells avoided looking at the woman, more than sure this wasn't amusing her much anymore.

"I see." The Commander said. She turned to Raven and the rest of the shocked 100. "None of you ordered this?" Raven shook her head. "No way. I told this dumbass to stay at camp. If we wanted him to come with us, we would have told him to. Finn, what the hell?"

Sterling came up, struggling to move _and_ put his shoes back on at the same time and Monroe came up, armed with a rifle, only lowering it when she saw who was here on the ship, mouth dropping.

Wells could almost sense Finn's indignant look when he snapped, "Rae, I care about what happens to Clarke too. I couldn't just wait back at camp and pretend that she isn't in danger. And I wasn't going to pretend that I was okay with you going off to get yourself killed either." Wells tried not to roll his eyes. He just bet that Finn cared about what happened to Clarke and Raven. He noticed Raven's face and thankfully she didn't look like she was in pain over Finn being here, just annoyed. "Okay, Finn, this time you've done something really stupid. More than usual, I mean." Raven shook her head, leaning on her cane as she looked at the Commander, "So how much trouble is he in for this? And Commander, Charlotte's just a kid."

The Commander looked at Charlotte and Wells, against his will, took a step back, tightening his protective hold on Charlotte. He didn't think the Commander would kill a child for something like this, but considering he had thought that she would actually face the Mountain Men like she had promised and had been proven wrong, he wasn't sure he trusted what she did next.

The Commander spoke calmly as she regarded Wells, "Do not fear for the child, Wels kom Skaikru. I won't hurt her. And Fin kom Skaikru, it seems that you've made yourself valuable." She looked at the startled, bedraggled young man with questions in his dark eyes. The Commander added, "A young man and a child who was able to track and follow us on foot? All the way to the docks? Defiant as you are," The Commander's voice was disapproving a moment, "You are loyal. And both of you are strong. Strong enough to go all that way to the docks and get onboard without anyone seeing you."

The Commander turned to Lincoln and Octavia. "You were training each of the Skaikru to be warriors, Linkin?" Lincoln nodded. "Sha, Heda." The Commander turned away and faced Finn. "You will stay on the ship." The Commander finished after a moment of contemplation. "But get rest tonight. Tomorrow, your training will intensify. The both of you should eat and rest tonight."

Finn grinned, relieved. Wells felt Charlotte laugh as she pulled away from him, grinning at him. Wells smiled, also relieved that Finn and Charlotte weren't being thrown in a cell in the ship or being brought ashore. He wasn't sure even the Commander would do this, but he was just relieved that the woman hadn't decided to throw Finn or Charlotte overboard.

"Right," Wells said, thinking of what the Commander had said, "We should get you some food, Charlotte. You haven't eaten all the way to the docks." Charlotte lost her grin and shook her head. "I didn't want us to stop. I was worried we'd lose you guys if we slowed down. Finn was tracking you, but I was worried the tracks would be rained on or an animal would get rid of them or something." Wells nodded, feeling a strain on his arms and he eventually lowered Charlotte back to the deck. He had grown stronger with Lincoln and Octavia's training, but lifting up a ten-year-old was no small feat.

He released her and Charlotte was smiling again at him. "So, we're getting food, right?" Finn asked, walking over to the group, grinning like he hadn't done anything wrong. Wells shook his head. Damn it, he was going to kill Finn one day. He was sure of it. Finn was going to put Clarke, Raven or Charlotte in danger and Wells was going to kill him for it. He was willing to bet actual money on that. Either that or Finn was going to give him a heart attack with his antics. One of those options.

"Yeah," Monroe laughed, reaching out and smacking her hand against Finn's back, "You lunatic, we'll get you two food." The Commander nodded and called out, "Kint, bring this boy and girl down to get food." Kint answered in agreement and walked over, telling Finn and Charlotte to come with him. "I'll come with you," Wells said to Charlotte, taking her hand in his. The Commander looked at Wells and the young man wondered if she would try to stop him, but she gave no indication that she would as he followed Charlotte after Kint, Finn trailing behind them to the kitchen below. Raven groaned as the three of them and Kint disappeared, "So that happened. Yeah, that's as normal as you can ask for. Damn it, Finn."

She received chuckles from Monroe and Sterling in response, plus a lifted eyebrow from the Commander.

The Commander looked at Onya and the woman shrugged, finding the whole thing amusing and a hassle. Onya growled under her breath, "These persistent Sky People are more trouble than they're worth." A smirk touched her lips though.

 **(Page break)**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Ontari lifted herself out of the bed, sheet of brown bear fur falling past her scarred, ivory breasts, as she looked at Klark, the blonde sleeping on her chest on the bed. Ontari leaned down, gently kissing the tips of one of Klark's many lash marks on her back. Klark's back was covered in them. Long, wicked, cruel whip marks. Continual punishments Klark had taken in place of all the crimes the twenty-six might have committed. It was why Ontari had never been able to will any anger at the person or people that had killed Atano, the torturer even before learning who it was. He was only doing what Nia ordered him to do, but Ontari had wanted his death too for what he had done to Klark again and again.

Ontari had suspected quickly after learning of Atano's death that one of the twenty-six might have been involved. She didn't know then, but she knew now that she had been right. Fynly and West had ended Atano's life and Maaryo, Kristin, Paul and Glen had covered it up. But she also knew that the twenty-six weren't the only ones protective of Klark. Klark was Wanheda, valued by many and given gratitude by many for the Mountain and the cured Reapers in Azgeda. There were many that could have killed Atano in Klark's name even if Fynly and West had gotten to him first. Ontari wiped away any dried moisture that might still cling to her mouth and chin and slipped slowly out of the bed, placing the fur over Klark's body, her own naked one moving around the bed to where her clothes had been flung. Calmly and with only one thought on her mind, she redressed herself, slipping the shirt, pants and layers of furs back on. Once they were all secured over her, she flipped her black hair out of where it had tucked itself under the back of her fur jacket, letting her mane fall past her shoulders again as it usually did.

She walked past the still active fireplace to where she had kicked her boots off and grabbed each of them, pulling them on quickly, her eyes still on the sleeping Klark. She wasn't going to risk Klark losing any more of herself than she had already lost. It was late at night. She knew exactly when the guards would be done with their shift. In only a few minutes they would be relieved of their duty and the new guards in the dungeon would be replacing them. That meant that Ontari had a small chance of getting to the dungeon unseen and getting out after she was done.

She kept note of the fireplace and the pedestals of fire pits still active, and the pits in the room around floor full of coals. Klark would be warm here. The heat and fire was still active.

Ontari went to the door, looking back at Klark sadly. She hoped Klark would forgive her one day for doing this. She had to do this. For Klark's sake. She went to the door, pulling the latch up and opened the door, walking outside and closing the door.

She had to move quickly. Klark had lost so much of herself here in the Ice Nation. Already wounded, already haunted, Klark had been destroyed bit by bit by doing what she needed to do for her people. And now? Now Klark had finally begun to piece herself back together, find hope where she had thought there was none. She had a family and allies that would do anything for her. She was on the route for creating a better Azgeda. She was starting to believe in a better world again. She had even started drawing and painting again, which had almost been nonexistent after the mountain. Klark, as Ontari had discovered, had an excellent talent for art, drawing, painting and the like.

When Klark had begun to see hope for taking down Nia and her army, Ontari had found Klark drawing more and more when the blonde would have the chance to be on her own and do it. Klark was becoming more and more open by the day, despite what the queen had done to her. Ontari couldn't let the Mountain Man's presence start to hurt Klark's light, start to destroy her chances at having a peaceful life.

As soon as the door was closed, Clarke opened her eyes and turned over in bed. She had been awake since she had heard shuffling around in the room, but had stayed quiet, knowing Ontari was going to do something. Had Ontari not been shifting around so much on the bed, Clarke would have allowed the other to know that she was awake, but as Ontari _had_ displayed odd behavior, Clarke had kept quiet. Clarke lifted herself up out of bed, pushing the covers away from herself and despite her exhaustion, got out of bed, wiping at her face and went for her clothes.

Outside of the room, Ontari stalked down the hallway, thinking about what she could do to make it look like an accident. The man was already bound and gagged and he hadn't had much to eat in days, clearly. Ontari didn't even know how he had stayed alive this long, even if he _knew_ knowledge about the outside world and the food he could find.

Ontari made her way down the stairs, through the halls. She dodged the guards and anyone that might see her. She made it to the dungeons surprisingly fast, even with her concerns about being caught. She reached the furthest, large, steel barred cage at the end of the room, standing in front of it and looking through the bars at the bound Karl Emerson, who looked back at her, confused and angry. Ontari looked around the dungeon and the cage, trying to find something she could use as means of killing him and making it appear accidental. Suffocation would work. If the prisoner dropped dead from exhaustion, there would be little questions asked, as people and the queen knew of Emerson's physical health.

A broken neck might not bring that many questions, as Emerson was bound to the bars and had likely struggled the whole time and would continue to struggle. She thought about making him choke on his gag, wondering if that would work. She dismissed the thought, though.

Or dying of freezing would be nothing. All she'd have to do was put out the fire in the fireplace and all the flames on the torches. Each wall was adorned with six different torches, all torches lit. And a fireplace warming the place. Only an hour, maybe two at the most and the dungeon where the Mountain Man was tied would be flooded with cold. Icy cold. And two more hours after that? The Mountain Man would die of cold. Eventually his arms and legs would become as stiff as a statue's limbs. His toes and fingers would fall off. His nose would be easily broken off. His eyebrows and hair would be caked with ice.

It would be nothing to do that, but it would not be subtle. It would not be easy to get away with that. The fireplace, the torches, all of them going out at once? That would instantly incite suspicion.

She had to be quick and make sure that she left no trace and the quickest way without leaving a mark was suffocation. She made the decision. She'd put her hand over his mouth and nose, killing him after a few minutes. Then it would look like an accident. No one would question it and neither she nor Klark would be held accountable. And Klark wouldn't be able to indulge in her darker needs.

She stared at the man, finding him more foreign than even some of the Sky People. It was strange to imagine that this malnourished, dirt stained, wild-eyed man had been part of the people that had been the cause of many of her Tribe and many of other tribes to fear for their lives and for their peoples' lives. It was strange and unthinkable that this scrap of a man was once part of a terrifying race of people that mothers and fathers would warn their children about.

When Ontari had been a child and the shadow of the mountain loomed over all, even those that lived out here, she had heard of her people going to the mainland to serve the Commander at the time, Ahan and as a result were snatched by the Mountain Men. Sometimes they were turned into Reapers. Sometimes, as Ontari found out, they were drained of their blood for the Mountain Men's purposes. But the same thing was always certain. If taken by the Mountain Men, you would never be seen again.

Ontari had had nightmares about the Mountain Men and about the Reapers. She hadn't known that the Mountain Men couldn't live above ground until she had turned fourteen and her mother had informed her more about the Mountain Men. As it turned out, the very air burned the Mountain Men. Ontari didn't understand it and was certain she didn't want to understand it. The Mountain Men were abominations. But until Nia had informed her that the Mountain Men couldn't live above ground, Ontari had had nightmares of the Mountain Men gaining access to ships and going across the ocean to Azgeda territory. Preying upon the people in her tribe as they saw fit.

It was so strange to see this weak little man that was once a part of those people. He was no monster. He was just a man.

Ontari nodded, knowing she had to do this. She walked to the ring of keys hanging on the metal hook affixed to the wall and grabbed the ring off the hook, holding them close, about to go to the door and unlock it, when a stunned voice called out behind her, "Ontari, what are you doing?!" Ontari whirled, mouth dropping when she saw Klark standing in the middle of the hallway, clothed fully, staring at her with anger and confusion. Ontari heard, and she was certain that Klark did too, the sound of the man's breath hitching and muffled, angry growls.

Ontari knew immediately now that Emerson recognized Klark. Knew who she was, despite all the Azgeda clothing and the marks on her face, and he hated her. Ontari was glad she knew that. It gave her all the more reason to kill him. Make sure he couldn't cause problems for them later.

"I was-" Ontari began, knowing any excuse she was able to come up with would be weak at best, when Klark cut her off, "Don't. I know already why." The Sky woman's face contorted in anger and her blue eyes hardened. "I know why. You…" Klark turned her head to Emerson, eyes bleeding with rage as she and the prisoner met each other's gazes. One hateful gaze meeting another's.

Ontari almost shivered, feeling the rage and bloodlust in this dungeon. She had been in this dungeon literally thousands and thousands of times. She had committed unspeakable tortures on prisoners in this dungeon. She had killed in this dungeon. This was one of the more clearly hate filled interactions she had ever witnessed. And neither of them had even spoken a word to each other yet. It was just an invisible line of murderous rage, a living, ugly, deformed thing made up of molten hot hate. Ontari knew that if this man wasn't bound to the bars like he was, he would be lunging at the bars of his door, screaming like a wild animal, arms through the bars, arms reaching like weak claws for Klark. Despite how physically weak he was, this man was desperate to kill Klark. To pay her back for his family likely dying in the mountain along with the rest of the Mountain Men.

Ontari didn't know this man's story, but she knew for a fact that despite all the fear and the nightmares surrounding the Mountain Men, this man was just a man. Which meant that the Mountain Men were his people and he must have had a family there. A family that had died when Klark had pulled that lever and killed everyone in the Mountain. That was why the man was looking at Klark with such hatred. And Emerson? He had threatened Klark's people, had tried to kill them.

It was like tempting a wildfire to happen, having these two in the same room as each other. Ontari recalled one of the soldiers in her mother's army describing a similar feeling when he had been in the room when Heda had confronted the Ice Queen after Kostia's head had been brought to Heda's bedside.

The soldier in question who had told her this story, Solben, had had that nervous look in his blue eyes when he described the story, shivering. He had told his princess and eventual queen how the Commander clearly had wanted to remove the Ice Queen's head for what she had done to her Kostia, but she had hidden it well with an emotionless mask.

But even then, everyone who had been in the room at the time of the Commander welcoming the Ice Queen into the Coalition could just _feel_ their Heda's murderous bloodlust, her need to wreck the queen open from throat to bowls. But she didn't do it.

And the Ice Queen? Nia's rage only grew with Heda being so calm and negotiable. Nia, though unable to do nothing, as she was brought into the Coalition, and doing anything from there would have been treason, so the woman had done nothing. But Nia hated Heda from there more than she ever had, and that hatred had been palpable. Like it had a life of its own in that throne room in Polis when the Ice Queen had bowed before Heda and it had taken everything Heda had not to grab one of her swords and remove the Ice Queen's head from her shoulders.

Though Ontari had not been there for that incident, since her mother had wisely kept her "secret weapon," her secret nightblood hidden away in Azgeda, the stories Ontari had heard from those that _had_ been there that day, always made her shiver, knowing that peace like that between the Azgeda and Trikru could only last so long. And here she was, seeing something potent and violent just begging to be released from both Klark and Emerson in this dungeon.

It was repulsive, terrifying, tense and fascinating all in one.

Klark turned her glare away from the Mountain Man, then just glanced before turning back to Ontari, eyes hard, "Let's talk down the hall. I don't want him to hear us." Ontari was silent for a long time, not able to speak, and she almost didn't budge from her spot when Klark began to move down the hall. Ontari's senses finally came back to her, despite her shock and she followed Klark. They got to the end of the hall of the cages, a good few feet from where the Mountain Man was. Klark turned on Ontari and said in a hushed voice, but her anger was strong, "You got me to get to sleep, let my guard down and then you were going to kill him. Ontari, I trusted you. He's mine!"

Klark's eyes glistened with anger and unresolved need for vengeance and Ontari tried to ignore the stinging warning that it was already too late. Klark wanted to kill him. There was no way around that. And she had made a claim on who got to kill him now. That was not good. "Klark-" She began again, but Klark would hear none of it. "No," She hissed, teeth clenched, "Just don't. I have a right to be angry at you." Her darkened eyes slanted to Emerson in his cage, "And to want him dead."

"You do. You do. But Klark," Ontari willed herself to speak, getting close to Klark, knowing that if anyone else felt the violent need to cause harm coming off of Klark right now, they would not be foolish enough to approach the Sky woman, "You deserve better than this. Please go back to our room. I'll do it. You won't have to think about him again." Klark turned her fiery blue glare on Ontari and the Azgeda woman turned the stare back, knowing she had to stay firm with this if she didn't want it to get any further into a violent direction than it already was headed for.

"Don't you dare," Klark hissed, "I'm not some child you can tell to go and hide and sit on my ass like a good little girl until you're done with the important stuff. I'm the one who killed his people. He threatened to kill my people. He tried to murder them. This is between me and him." Ontari winced at the brutal tone in Klark's voice. Not even when Klark was ordering attacks on villages under Nia's orders with the threats of the twenty-six being tortured, should Klark not do what the queen said, had Klark's voice ever sounded like this. "Klark," Ontari tried again, "Please, you don't want to do this. This isn't you."

Klark scowled, "Isn't it? I killed hundreds of children in Mount Weather. Children who didn't have anything to do with hurting my people. I've killed dozens of children in villages to keep only twenty-six people safe. Again, children that had nothing to do with hurting my people. Torturing a man that actually had a _great_ deal to do with the pain my people went through will be nothing." Ontari tried not to wince. Klark had a point.

"Klark," Ontari said, voice impassioned, "You think I don't remember how many nightmares you've had? Or where your mind goes when you're told something that reminds you of what happened in the Mountain? This will only make it worse. Let _me_ do it, Klark. You won't have to live with this. Of all the things the Mountain Men did to you, you won't have to live with this part of it." Ontari stared at Klark pleadingly, hoping this might sway her lover to listen.

It didn't.

Klark's eyes hardened a she growled with passion, "Emerson was the one that offered the deal to Lexa!"

Ontari almost stumbled back at that revelation. Emerson was? _He_ was? Ontari looked into the cage at the wild eyed man, noting that his dark eyes now seemed a little panicked, as if signifying that even if he didn't hear what they were saying, he could detect that their conversation was dire and was really, fully realizing for the first time that this was a situation where he was doomed one way or another. He hadn't heard a thing they had said, given where the two of them had placed themselves, but Emerson could clearly feel the burn of their hateful stares from where he was bound. Ontari thought about what she had just heard. This man had been the one to offer the deal to the Commander? The offer to let all of the Commander's people, except for the Sky People who weren't considered the Commander's people go, so long as the Mountain Men got the bone marrow needed to walk above ground. The bone marrow that allowed Emerson to be here in Azgeda and not die from the mere air. Ontari had thought it had been the leader of the Mountain Men, the one Klark had called "Dantay Walass." Or his son, "Kaje."

"I thought it was Kaje Walass or his father." Ontari said, looking back at Klark with confusion. Klark shook her head. "They came up with the idea. But Emerson was the one that made the deal. Cage and Dante were both inside the Mountain at the time when the Commander ran away." Klark barked out the words "ran away." Ontari grimaced. Under most circumstances nowadays, Klark spoke of the Mountain more calmly than she used to. And spoke of the Commander's betrayal with more sadness than with rage and injury. But clearly, having this Emerson here was bringing up old and dark memories that were stirring Klark's worst instincts.

Klark added, voice cold, "Cage might have given the order, but he was in the Mountain. I don't think he could tell _what_ the Commander was doing. _Emerson_ was the one out of the Mountain, making the deal, acting as the mouthpiece between the Commander and Cage Wallace. That deal wouldn't have gone through without Emerson's help."

Ontari absorbed this, stunned. So Klark and Emerson's relationship was more murderous and dangerous still. Emerson had caused even more damage to Klark and her people than Ontari had thought.

She looked back at Emerson, real anger and hatred beginning to simmer in her own chest, wishing to kill Emerson for what he had done to Klark. But she couldn't make this last. She had to get rid of him now before Klark could lose more of herself in torturing him. She glared murderously at him before she softened and turned back to Klark, still hoping to get her to understand. "I understand, Klark. But if you do this?" Klark turned to glare at Ontari, and the unaffected Azgeda heir continued, "You won't just be giving the Ice Queen what she wants. You'll be giving the Mountain Man what he wants. He wants you to be as ugly as he is. He wants to know that he's affected you like this. Don't give him what he wants."

Klark scoffed, pulling away from where she stood in front of Ontari. Her acidic gaze turned to Emerson again. "Don't feed me that 'don't be as bad as these people' argument, Ontari. I tried that already. I tried that more than once with the Trikru. And I think everyone in the Coalition, knows how _that_ went, don't we? I will slaughter Emerson. And you won't get in the way."

Klark moved forward, grabbing the keys from Ontari's grasp. Ontari hissed. Klark had no weapon as far as she could tell, but Klark didn't need any. Klark had been trained since the moment she had bowed to the queen six months ago. She was a muscled warrior and leader now, and the last Mountain Man was a thin, scrap of a man who had been tied up for perhaps weeks. There was no comparison when it came to strength. Should Klark release Emerson, it would be only seconds before she had him by the throat, thrown to the ground and beating him bloody.

"Klark-" Ontari started, reaching out fast and snatching the keys back from Klark, desperation starting to leak into her voice along with her rapid movement, before clanking rang out from behind them, making both women whirl around, recognizing the sound of the main dungeon door opening.

Footsteps accompanied the creaking of the heavy door. Klark and Ontari both tensed when they saw a figure emerge from the stairwell. It was the Ice Queen.

Ontari froze, quick to hide her unease and she could feel Klark behind her doing the same and fought the need to reach out and grab Klark's hand, fighting the urge to reassure the other. She wasn't sure that would help. Help either their appearance of not doing anything suspicious, or help them in trying to calm down.

Nia stepped forward, holding her hand out behind her back and telling someone to stay where they were. Ontari assumed Saktar or Mathias. Or both. If it were only Mathias, then Ontari wouldn't be so tense, but if Saktar was there too, then they had more trouble than the queen herself. They were outnumbered. Either way, this could ruin every carefully placed plan they ever had.

The queen turned to her heirs, a wide smile on her face. "Ontari, dearest, I thought I heard one of the guards say they saw your beloved come down here." Nia turned to look at Klark and Ontari could feel Klark tense. "And Wanheda, what do you think of my newest gift? My scouts learned of who he was and where he was at the time, when I had him brought here. He was hiding like a miserable, cowardly little rat in a hole somewhere in the Podakru territory. When I learned of who he was, I knew that he had to be brought here, and that he would make an excellent gift for you."

Klark walked closer to Ontari and Ontari could see out of the corner of her eye that Klark was hesitantly nodding. "Ain. He is an excellent gift. Thank you, your majesty. I wanted to see myself that the scum was here and alive like I had been told. I hope you can forgive my lack of patience." Ontari was grateful for Klark's quick lie. Learning how to lie so easily in the Azgeda and hiding everything they were planning was very useful. And it was helping them now. Hopefully it would keep Nia from discovering what Ontari had tried to do for Klark.

Klark added, appearing curious, "How did you find out where he was? I hope you can forgive me for asking, your majesty. Just wondering."

Nia didn't answer, just smirked. She looked over at the bound prisoner and spoke coolly, smirk still on her face. "Well, I don't need that much sleep." She looked at Ontari, grinning, "Your mother is many things, Ontari, but a weakling that needs more sleep than a few hours is not one of them. I can sleep later. Now," Nia turned to the door and ordered one of the guards to close it. The door was soon slid shut with a boom and Ontari felt her blood chill. She could feel how tense Klark was next to her.

They had just gotten into a situation that they couldn't get out of.

Nia turned back to face both younger women, reaching into her belt and pulling out a thin, but long, wicked knife, the knife bearing a silver, polished, triangular blade that gleamed in the firelight, the pommel round and made of dark wood. She offered the knife by its hilt out to Klark, smirking. "Wanheda. I believe the honors are all yours. I would like to see you make the few first cut. Maybe a finger? A few fingers? His tongue?" Nia hesitated before adding, smirk widening, "No, not his tongue. You want to hear his screams, don't you? Maybe cut some of the skin on his face away."

Ontari slid her eyes to look at Klark. She could feel how uneasy Klark was the moment she heard all those words. Klark's lips were tight together and Ontari could almost feel Klark's skin crawl. Ontari kept her eyes on Klark who was showing no signs of her emotions on her face. This was it. Whatever happened now, it would bring destruction, suspicion or sadistic pleasure. Ontari wasn't sure which she dreaded more.

All this left one more question that Ontari truly couldn't figure out. Klark had asked a good question before. How _had_ her mother even _discovered_ the Mountain Man in Podakru territory? How had she even done that? Her mother's reach was long, but not that long. How had she known exactly where the Mountain Man was at that exact time and knew where to send her warriors after him? Those questions just made her mind spin. And she knew, no matter what happened now, she had to get answers for them.

 **(Page break)**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Some of the Trikru, including Onya, entered the kitchen, watching Wells sit across from "Charlotte" and Fin, both stowaways in question eating to their hearts content. Charlotte was joyfully devouring three peaches, not seeming to decide which one she wanted to finish off first, all of them having many impressive bites in them already, and Finn was gulping down the bowl of soup that had been lain out before him.

Wells smirked at Charlotte, just happy that she was getting food in her stomach. "Better?" He asked, taking note that Charlotte had stuffed more peaches, apples and other fruit into her green hoodie pockets. Charlotte nodded happily. "These are really good." The girl answered, peach juices from the first peach she was finishing up all over her hands and face as she tossed the large, brown pit back onto the table.

"I imagine they are," The Commander's voice spilled into the room as she entered the cabin, Wells noticed with relief that the woman's swords were both sheathed. He didn't want Charlotte to get scared or think she had done something wrong. The Commander continued as Charlotte looked at her, "The Floukru are well-known for their trade with other tribes and those fruits were brought in recently from the Trikru territory in exchange for providing us with this ship. Have you ever eaten these fruits before, goufa?" Charlotte looked surprised and looked at Wells questioningly. Wells answered her look, assuming Charlotte was reacting to the word "goufa." "Child. Goufa means child." Charlotte nodded, then looked at the Commander and shook her head.

Raven came over, dragging over to where Wells, Charlotte and Finn were sitting, hobbling over onto the bench, sitting next to Wells, grinning at Charlotte. "No need for going slow with your food, kiddo. It's not like you need to breathe." Charlotte gave a muffled grunt as she bit a lot more off another peach and Wells chuckled. Wells shrugged, "Don't think it can be helped. I don't think _Finn_ stopped to eat for a while." Wells gave an annoyed glare to Finn who had lowered the bowl and shrugged, wiping away the last bits of soup from his mouth with the back of his right hand. "We couldn't slow down. If we slowed down to get food, we wouldn't have been able to catch up with you and get on the ship."

"Wouldn't that have been a tragedy?" Wells said in aggravation.

"Yes, actually." Finn grinned, "You guys would not have wanted to find out that we weren't able to get back to Arkadia and that we died out here." Raven said darkly, "Don't be so sure about that. Charlotte we wouldn't have wanted to die. _You_ are pushing it, Finn." Finn gave his usual, innocent, charming grin. Raven didn't look fazed at all.

A sigh came from next to them and they looked to the Commander who was watching the whole scene with the same cool expression on her face. The Commander spoke firmly, "We will leave you to your meal. But when you are done, find a place to sleep. You both will train tomorrow."

Charlotte hesitated but nodded. Finn gave a forced smile. "No problem, Commander."

Raven eyed the Commander suspiciously as she had the moment the Trikru woman had entered Arkadia. Wells said, quickly, hoping to interfere before any more tension could rise, "Thank you for your understanding, Commander. I suppose this is goodnight then?"

The Commander nodded. "Sha. Goodnight, Wels kom Skaikru. Reivon." The Commander turned to the two stowaways. "And Sharlote and Fin kom Skaikru." She moved away from the table and ordered her warriors to go back to their quarters. The Trikru and the other tribe members walked gradually out of the room, the Commander eventually disappearing, much to Ravon's relief.

Wells noticed Raven breathing out deeply. Fox, Harper, Monroe and Sterling came to sit down next to them. "Damn, Finn," Monroe snickered, "You are out of your freaking mind." She looked down at Charlotte, "You too, short stuff. What were you thinking?" Charlotte scowled, grumbling through chewing. "I was thinking that I didn't want Wells to be alone with idiots like you and that one." She nodded to Sterling. Sterling smirked, hand going to his chest in mock hurt, "Ouch. I'm wounded, Charlotte. Truly."

Wells rolled his eyes and turned to Raven, concerned about Raven's unease around the Commander. "You alright?" He asked. He knew what she would say instantly, even though it wouldn't be the truth. "Yeah." Raven said, giving him a nonchalant look. "Why wouldn't I be?" Wells sighed. "Because you look at the Commander like you keep expecting her to pull a knife out on you."

He said it nearly silently and all three Monroe, Sterling and Charlotte were making such a commotion that Finn, Fox and Harper didn't hear him, but since Raven was right next to him, she heard perfectly. She stiffened and turned on him, glaring with acid in her gaze. Wells didn't show any emotion besides sadness. He had been captured in the mountain when Abby, Kane, Clarke and the rest of the Ark people had first tried to ally with the Commander against the Mountain Men. But he had been there. After he had practically thrown Clarke into the dropship to protect her from the explosion, Wells had jumped out of the way just in time when the explosion had gone off. There was no time for him to jump in and as far as he had been able to tell, Charlotte and Clarke were already in the dropship and were already safe. So he jumped out of the way. And when he had come back to the dropship, looking for Clarke and the others after the battle with the 300 Grounders, he hadn't found his people.

Until he was captured by the Mountain Men. He and Clarke had escaped. Wells hadn't wanted to leave Charlotte, but there wasn't enough time. They helped Anya out of the mountain, despite Wells for the first time actually feeling real rage towards Clarke for making him leave Charlotte, but now he understood it. The three of them escaped, Anya almost killed him and tried to take Clarke prisoner, but they restrained Anya together. And they tried to form an alliance with the Grounders. When he and Clarke had reunited with their people, Abby, Kane and the additional people from the Ark, they had tried to start the alliance with the Grounders, that was when it had happened. When the Commander had started a mistrust in Raven towards her.

It had been a mistake on the Commander's part and a deliberate framing on the part of the now dead Grounder named "Gustus's." That Gustus man had framed Raven, trying to get people to believe that Raven had tried to kill the Commander and had almost gotten her killed. Wells didn't like to think he was sadistic. But he had been glad when he had seen how Gustus died. Good. That was justice if he had ever heard it, considering how he had tried to get Raven killed.

It also meant that Raven was now deeply afraid of the Commander. Even without the Commander leaving all of them and especially Clarke, Wells's sister to die, what the Commander had tried to do to Raven, even if she had been tricked, was enough to make Wells hate the woman for it.

"Leave it alone, Jaha." Raven said, voice not holding the strength that it might have once had and that was even more of a reason for Wells to see the Commander as the enemy. Every single person that he loved now, Clarke, Raven, Charlotte, Lincoln, Sterling, Monroe, Abby, Kane, Finn, the others, even Octavia, they all had been put in danger because of one big reason. The Commander. It was hard to care about the Commander's rule or even her concern for Clarke when his people had this kind of history with her.

Wells tried not to grimace at that thought. Maybe peace really _was_ impossible.

 **Author's note:**

 **Kran in segara: The Azgeda words for "my love."**

 **Dantay: Dante**

 **Walass: Wallace**

 **Kaje: Cage**

 **So taking a moment from ranting, (gasp), I know, right? No one faint, okay? I want to just say something about Lexa. It's not even necessarily an insult, more of an attempt to analyze Lexa's feelings for Clarke and why I suspect Anya's would have been more suited for her in the show. It's Lexa's idealism. Let me explain that. I think Lexa genuinely cares about Clarke. But I don't think she's in love with Clarke. At least not in the way people think she is. Not even necessarily the way Lexa thinks she does. I think she's in love with the leader she** _ **thinks**_ **Clarke is. The ideal of what she wants Clarke to be. I might be wrong. The asshole that writes the show committed one of his misogynistic fantasies before we could delve more into season three and Lexa's feelings. But that's just a theory of mine.**

 **Anya, on the other hand? Does she strike you as the type that would care about sugarcoating things or being in love with ideals? She's not interested in ideals, just reality, the truth and how to deal with it. She's capable of loving Clarke for exactly the way Clarke is. She wouldn't mince words about the relationship she'd want either or what kind of person or leader she thought Clarke was or should be. That might just be me though.**


	13. The threat of turning

**Guest: Well, now that you've blatantly said that you don't want Finn or Charlotte to become Anya or Lexa's seconds, now I technically HAVE to. (Don't worry, I won't. I'm just messing with you. I won't do that, promise.) I actually wasn't even thinking about that as a possibility. Just having them train to be better fighters when they get to Azgeda so they'll be of more use then.**

 **(Another) Guest: Wow, someone feels strongly about Lexa. And I thought I had passionate feelings about it. But yes, pretty much everything you said about Lexa is true.**

 **Trigger warnings for torture, child abuse and child neglect.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 13: The threat of turning:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Standing in the middle of the hall of the dungeon was not anything less than stressful. But it was plenty of other skin crawling things. Ontari knew that one of them had to do something soon, less they wanted to make her mother suspicious and openly wonder why they weren't doing anything. And the question remained in the Azgeda woman's brain. How had the queen known exactly where Karl Emerson was in the Podakru territory? She knew that her mother had spies all over in different tribes, but for Emerson to be in the exact place where some of those spies were? What were the odds? Something was wrong here.

The queen eyed the two younger women, awaiting an action of some kind.

Klark's action came before Ontari could think of some explanation for what she was wondering. The Sky woman reached out and took the knife by its wooden pommel and the queen released the knife, smiling widely at this action. Klark turned on her heels, facing where Emerson was locked up.

The movement caught Ontari's eye and she whirled, heart leaping. She held back a hiss. No. "Klark-" Ontari began, still reminding herself that her mother was watching. Klark didn't listen and stopped in front of the prison cage door, staring at Emerson and Ontari was helpless to do anything except watch. Ontari's chest and stomach felt cold, even though with her wearing furs, and with the torches and the fireplace going, she should be quite warm.

Was Klark really going to-?

Klark stood in front of the door, the fire flickering in her eyes. "Open the door." She ordered. Ontari was glad she was turned away from her mother. Otherwise the older woman would have seen her daughter's mournful expression. Klark was going through with it. She saw a big chunk of bloody, red meat and she was going to tear it to shreds.

Like the predator the queen had made of her.

Ontari tried not to feel the uncontrollable dread in her system. But it was there. Whether she liked it or not. It was rising like a flood. She stepped forward, legs feeling heavier than they ever had felt. She reached Klark, arm reaching out, handing Klark the keys. Her eyes locked with Klark's. "Do what you want, Klark." Ontari said, allowing all of her dread into her voice, "And see what comes of it."

Klark scowled, taking the keys from Ontari. Ontari knew she probably shouldn't have spoken so harshly. But she knew what would come of this. Ontari had killed in bloodlust. More than once. It wasn't just a mission. It wasn't just being sent out to kill an enemy. This was personal. And she had enjoyed it. She knew what the consequences were for killing and enjoying it. For killing in pure bloodlust. When you killed, a piece of yourself died. But when you killed and enjoyed it-for something as primal as bloodlust, it was far more than just a piece of you that died. Everything that you were would be flooded with bloodlust, if only for that day. To know what killing and torturing in bloodlust felt like was to know the worst depths of your soul.

Klark took the keys and said calmly to Ontari, without any care in her voice, "Don't worry, Ontari. I will." She turned to the door and put the key into the lock, turning the key. She snapped the key to unlock the door and the clanking noise of the lock being opened and the sound was like a shrieking noise to Ontari's ears. Klark pushed the barred door open fully, stepping through. Her right hand held the knife by its handle. Ontari's eyes went to Emerson. She watched his rage turn to panic. He now knew fully just how much danger he was in.

He was going to get no help here.

Klark stepped closer, inside the cell. Ontari glanced to her left, down the hall at her mother. She knew the situation was more complicated than Klark just _wanting_ to torture Emerson for revenge. If Klark didn't torture Emerson, Nia would know that something was wrong. And Klark couldn't help it if she hated the last Mountain Man. Ontari couldn't really blame Klark for that.

 _She_ had wanted to kill Emerson as soon as she learned he was a Mountain Man. Never mind when she learned what he had done to Klark and her people. When Ontari had heard his name from her mother, she almost went inside the cage and strangled him herself when she was done getting over the shock of seeing him here. That yet again brought more questions for Ontari. How did her mother know Emerson was in the Podakru territory? The Azgeda were distrusted by many tribes since Kostia's death. Her mother must have sent a very well kept hidden spy into Podakru lands.

And even then with that little suspicion, Ontari didn't know how her mother could possibly have known. How could she have known where the Mountain Man was? Exactly where he was?

Clarke stepped into the middle of the room of the cage, eyes on Emerson, never leaving the bedraggled, weak man that had caused her people so much pain and misery.

They both physically had changed so much in seven months. Emerson was filthy. His face was overgrown with a dirty, brown shadow of a beard that the Azgeda hadn't shaved yet. They probably had shaved him before to make him more recognizable for her. But his beard was growing again. His brown hair was a mess. His once white clothes were filthy. Covered in dirt. He was practically bone-thin. There was the occasional bruise on his arm and cheek. He looked nothing like the man he had been in the Mountain. One of a society of very clean people who always made sure they had clean clothes on and that their people were bathed regularly.

And she? She must have looked nothing like she did seven months ago. Far more muscled. Scars on her face to acknowledge her achievements. An Azgeda tattoo on the back of her neck, though he couldn't see _that._ Her hair was in braids now. Were she in battle, the braids would be decorated with bits of bone and fangs and claws. She was wreathed in heavy black and white furs. A completely different attire and appearance than when Emerson first laid eyes on her. To him, she must have looked like how his people perceived the "Outsiders." As savages. She must have looked savage to him.

But after all this time, with all the differences, they recognized each other still. They recognized each other like Mount Weather had just been yesterday. Like it had happened only a day ago. The memory was still fresh in Clarke's head. Lexa's unfeeling eyes, her emotionless face. Her nonchalant words. As if leaving forty-eight people to die, including the mother of the woman Lexa was going to marry meant nothing to her. Anya watching with an unemotional face and obeying when Lexa commanded her to follow. And _him._ Emerson. Smirking. Enjoying the sight.

Clarke remembered it like it happened _today._

There was a strange satisfaction in knowing that Emerson saw her as a monster. It make Clarke's lips curl up knowing that he thought of her as something threatening and monstrous now. As a savage.

She hoped she had haunted his nightmares for these last seven months as he had haunted hers.

Then she got a good look at his eyes. Eyes were very telling of what a person was thinking. Clarke had learned this well with Anya and Lexa. When their faces gave away nothing, their eyes gave away a great deal more than they'd have liked. Clarke had done the same with many that she had met thus far in Azgeda-reading their eyes. The queen. Ontari. Mathias. Saktar. More than a few warriors loyal to the queen. Some of her own apprentices who had been forced to take up the masks of ruthlessness to avoid showing the queen and her followers how much they loathed the queen.

This man's eyes? They told her that he was incredibly angry, hated her, was afraid, was in pain. And was…lonely.

Clarke stopped in her steps before she could help it. He was terrified, but he also looked relieved. Because he wouldn't have to endure being alone anymore. Clarke almost laughed at that thought, furious now that he would dare be eager for her blade after everything he had done to her people. He wanted to be relieved of his grief and loneliness. Clarke's teeth grinded together when she felt something horrible begin to curl around her chest. It wasn't rage. That she felt plenty of already. It was a familiar feeling. Empathy.

This man was the last of his kind.

There was a time when she had felt like that, even though there had been other Sky People on the ground.

And she had thought she'd never be with any group of people again after the mountain. After she had killed all the Mountain Men, Clarke had resigned herself that she would be completely alone. That it was what she deserved for what she did to the Mountain Men. She had been alone. For a month before the Azgeda grabbed her. It had been miserable. A torrent of pain, grief and an abyss of no one else but her, except when she went out to get food. And even then, as long as she made sure to stay in the wilderness, gathering berries and nuts and hunting animals or fishing by the river, the odds were she could avoid other human beings.

Clarke's head had been swimming with thoughts of how much her mother, Wells, Raven, Finn, Charlotte, Octavia, Lincoln, Monty, Bellamy, Harper, Monroe, Sterling and the others must have been happy that she was gone. How she would never see them again and how it would be the best for them.

She remembered the void that had filled her heart when Lexa and Anya had betrayed her at the mountain and had left her.

Loneliness was something Clarke was no stranger to. And this wretched, arrogant man had experienced it for seven months. Six months longer than her. She had a new family. And a lover now. They were screwed up and damaged and mass murderers because they had to be. Like her. But they were hers. This man had no one. For a second, she almost felt for him. Almost. But she wasn't delusional. She knew what needed to be done. If this man ever got freed, it was likely that none of her loved ones would be safe. Emerson wouldn't stop until he made her feel the pain she had caused him. She needed to kill him before that.

Even with the shocking arrival of empathy for this scum, Clarke knew that the queen was watching. If she didn't start cutting the man soon, she would question what was taking her daughter's intended so long.

Clarke came closer to the last Mountain Man, clenching the handle of the knife, knowing where a good portion of his skin and meat could be taken away and then looked to in order to make sure he didn't bleed to death or get an infection. She had been doing the queen's tortures for a long time now. She knew how and where to cut for it to be effective and painful. All those months and weeks of torturing apparently was about to pay off.

Cutting away meat, hacking at flesh and tendons. It shouldn't sound so mechanical. But in a way, it was.

Clarke had been a healer long before the queen had forced her to be a torturer. She knew where the organs were. She knew where the important bones were. She knew where the tendons and muscles were. She knew where the fat was. Where it would hurt less to slice. For quite a while she had been doing that when the queen would have her torture the prisoners. Cutting where there was more fat instead of bone and muscles keeping the cuts further from the bones of the victims. The fattier or more muscled part of a person's body would still hurt of course, if they were injured, but not nearly as much if it were just skin over bone.

Clarke knew where to slash away at someone in order to cause the maximum pain if she wanted. Or the most minimal pain she wanted. Almost always it was the former and not the latter. This was a rare case. She wanted more pain than she could hope for when it came to the Mountain Man.

She wanted to cut him to shreds. Clarke stepped closer to the Mountain Man, watching the sweat pour down Emerson's dirty brow. His hateful eyes stared at her with such accusation, she almost wanted to take his eyes. But she ignored that thought entirely. The memory of his wife's death and his children's death and the death of his brother were memories she deserved. She deserved all the accusations in the world. She deserved to have Emerson's hateful, accusing stare. To have his family's ghosts haunt her. Emerson would keep his eyes. It was when she noticed the sweat dripping from Emerson's right arm that the mental debate started. That muscle in his arm. The "teres major muscle." It didn't look like there was much of it left. The man was terribly malnourished. But there was still some fat visible there. It would be better than taking part of his hand that was bony. His pain would be excruciating if she did that.

But as she locked eyes with him, she wondered, did she owe him that? His family, yes, but him? No. He deserved no such pity. A black, gaping mouth of a wolf began to swallow up her regret and sympathy. The little kinship she felt she had shared with this man for just a moment seemed nonexistent. This animal had tortured her over the deaths and bone harvesting of her friends. Had made the deal with Lexa, which led to her people being left for dead. He would have her and all of her people dead if he could. He was fine with her people being violated for their bone marrow and using them like cattle and letting her people die. So many of her people had suffered because of him. Why should she treat him any differently? This man would hurt any of the others if he was free. Just like that, a mental cycle started in her mind, telling her that if he was free, everyone would be in danger. That she should do to him what should have been done to him seven months ago. He would hurt Sky People and Azgeda alike. He'd hurt Finley, Beryl, Blair, Lorena, Simone, Parker. Any of them. He'd even hurt the kids. Her heart hurt as she thought that, rage fueling her decision. He'd even hurt Zane, Reno, Linden or Lane. He'd even hurt her _Farron._

The dark, hateful rage came to the surface. Her teeth clenched. Even with Ontari only feet away, hate was the most powerful thing she could feel at the moment.

Even with Ontari who had been her rock for months and months being in the same room as her, her hatred at the moment, was the only thing keeping her standing and it was threatening to burst out at any moment.

It was an entity in itself, her hatred of this man.

It swam through her blood, touched her bones, her insides, came to the front of her brain, begging to be let out to murder. It was then that her rage won on what to do next. She would make him suffer. She would take some of the skin of his hand off. She would take the flesh from the skin right below his right index finger. Where the bone could be felt.

Clarke stepped closer so that she was inches from the man. His rank breath touched her face, but she didn't care. She gave him a cold and dark smile. She spoke words she never would have imagined speaking to a victim she was about to torture, as she always tried to be merciful to her torture victims. The voice that left her lips when she spoke, didn't even sound like her voice, "You are going to suffer far worse than your family did, Emerson." Those dark eyes blazed with rage and he pulled against his restraints and much to Clarke's own horror, there was a sliver of pleasure at his pain.

Clarke called to the queen and Ontari, "If you please, I need water and soap and a rag brought to me. I will not have this animal die before I can cut him apart."

Clarke could almost feel the dread from Ontari without looking at the black-haired woman. She didn't need to look at the queen either to know how the older woman felt about the matter. A shriek of gleeful laughter was all Clarke needed to hear to know that she had basically given the older woman what she wanted.

She heard Nia bark those same words to the guard in Azgedasleng and she heard "Ain, ai kwin," followed by heavy footsteps leaving the dungeon. Clarke's eyes bore into Emerson's, hoping the man understood just how truly grim his fate was going to be. From the looks of Emerson trembling, despite the many fires going in the dungeon, he did.

 **(Page break)**

When Farrun opened his eyes and was met with darkness, he almost panicked, thinking the fires in the room had gone out, till he realized he was incredibly warm. He felt something soft and warm be flush against his face. And there was something leaning down against the top of his head. He pulled away, wondering where he was for a second, before remembering quickly when he saw what had been leaning down on his head had been a light brown bearded face. Oh, right. It was his sky brother. Glen. He had been sleeping next to the older. Glen's "Yamika," whatever that green dome-shaped thing that usually was on his head was, lay on the shelf above Glen's bed with the clip used to hold it on his head, the clip tangled in his hair. Next to the odd head bearing piece of fabric was Glen's necklace. The gold necklace that looked like a star. Glen had said that it _was_ a star. Then he had said it was the "star of David." That, Farrun never understood. Farrun and Glen's sky brother, Dayvid? What did the star have to do with him?

But Glen's beliefs were odd and Farrun always knew that. Glen held no beliefs in other gods or spirits. He believed in one specific god. And it seemed other Azgeda learned a great deal from Glen. Farrun didn't mind. He loved Glen.

Farrun was able to was able to pull himself out from under Glen's heavy, muscled arms, gently pushing Glen's right arm up and slipping out, gently bringing Glen's arm down to the bed and getting off the bed, feet touching the floor softly. He looked around the room for his shoes, hand going to his tousled, black hair and finding his boots. He looked at the candles in the metal holsters grafted to the wall, to check the marks. Two hours had passed since Glenn had let him sleep next to him, wrapping his arms around his brother protectively. Good. Two hours was a long time, right? He wanted to see Klark. He was sure that she and the queen's heir were done with whatever they had been doing.

They never told him what that was. One of Farrun's other sky brothers, Maaryo had said that it was "adult stuff." But Farrun never understood what that meant. What did "adult stuff" even mean? Did it mean war plans? Training? He didn't understand that. He knew that one day Klark and Ontari were to be married. Kwins of Azgeda. Did it have something to do with that? Or was it _that?_ Did it have to do with the rebellion? Were they planning? The many questions Farrun had were ignored. He would just go to Ontari's room and speak to Klark there.

He went to his boots and pulled them on. He grabbed his jacket and covered himself. He grabbed his weapon belt, securing it, his knives against his legs and sides in reassurance. He checked the fires and the coals. It was still all warm here. Glen would be safe. He loved Glen. He was Farrun's big brother. He trusted Glen more than he did his own blood father. But Glen wasn't Klark. Farrun grabbed the metal latch and pulled it up, slipping out of the room and closing the door softly. He went down the lit hallway, kept warm with torches.

He reached the end of the hall and went up the stone steps. He heard no noise from the courtroom. It was eerily quiet, as was expected of this hour.

Farrun reached the room where the queen's heir would sleep and noted that the guards had been dismissed. He had thought that the guards would be still stationed here. They weren't. He knew sometimes that Ontari dismissed them to give her and Klark more privacy. For when they planned things. At least, Farrun assumed. He went to the door and gently knocked on it. He heard no answer. Maybe Klark and Ontari were asleep.

He stepped up to the door, opening it and going in, almost feeling like his hand would be cut off for going into the queen's heir's main chambers without her permission, even though both Ontari and Klark had given him permission to do so. He felt so tense whenever he was about to go in, despite those past allowances. He pushed the door open and said quickly, keeping his head bowed, if only for appearances, "Ontari, please forgive me, your highness. I just wanted to see Klar-" Farrun's voice stopped when his eyes fell on the bed up against the wall to the left. The large, soft bed where no one occupied.

Neither the heir to the queen's throne, nor Klark was there.

Farrun went deeper into the room, just to make sure and looked around. He didn't see either of the to be leaders.

Farrun stood back, confused. Worry touched his chest. Where was Klark? It was foolish and unseemly for him to worry about Klark as she was Wanheda. But he couldn't help it. Maybe she and Ontari were back in Klark's room?

Farrun turned and opened the door, closing it and went down the hall to the stairwell, going down it. He got to the hallway where Klark's room was and went to the door, knocking on it. He didn't hear an answer, so he opened it. He slipped into the room, looking in and was instantly chilled. The fires in the stone bowls on the pedestals were not glowing. Nor were the ravines where the alight coals lay glowing. And the fireplace was roaring, but running out of wood. And Klark's bed was empty. Farrun was relieved though. Klark couldn't sleep here. It was too cold.

He looked around the room again. No one was here but him.

Perhaps Klark was in the dungeon with the queen. The queen sometimes brought Klark there, because she wanted Klark to torture prisoners. Farrun didn't understand it and he hated that Klark was being forced to do it, but he knew that Glen, Maaryo and the other twenty-six were being used against Klark for her to do it.

It made Farrun wish he had the strength, skill and courage to kill the queen himself.

But Klark never enjoyed what the queen made her do. He didn't know why, but that was what the queen wanted. That's what Klark said. And Farrun believed it.

Closed the door, thinking about starting the fires again to keep Klark warm. Farrun then went down the hall again. He reached the courtroom a few minutes later, freezing and glancing at the platform where queen and Ontari would usually sit. There was no one in the thrones, but Farrun still had the instinctive need to bow, unless he wanted to be threatened. Thankfully there was no one here. He was glad the room was warmed with the fireplace and the many coal pits and torches. Otherwise even with his boots on, his feet against the stone floor would have turned to ice by now.

He went to the edge of the hall, stopping in his steps when he noticed the main door to the dungeon was open. And he noticed the guards, Mathyaas and Saktar there. Why were they there? Unless the queen was in the dungeon? Farrun knew that if Mathyaas was here, then Martin or Fynly were nearby, watching the man.

Farrun moved closer, hearing a few voices coming from the dungeon. He narrowed his black eyebrows, listening carefully, trying to recognize the voices. When he was a few feet from the door, he recognized Klark's voice. "I'm going to cut your hand open, just as you deserve, Emerson." Farrun was startled by the queen's following chuckle. Farrun's face scrunched in confusion, wondering who "Emerson" was and why Klark sounded _happy_ to do something like cutting a person's hand open.

Movement caught Farrun's eye to the right from the shadows and before the boy could think against it, he reached for his knife's handle, but was stopped by a hand over his hand and arms scooping him up off the floor, followed by a calm, quiet voice by his ear. "Shh, little brother. It's me." Farrun relaxed when he recognized his big sister, Fynly's voice. "Farron, sweetie, what are you doing here, little guy?" Farrun mumbled against Fynly's shoulder, seeing the light in dungeons fading as they got farther away, "I was looking for Klark. She's not in her room or Ontari's room." Farrun felt Fynly nod against him. "Yes," Fynly said quietly, voice holding an emotion Farrun didn't recognize in it. "She's in the dungeon with the queen and Ontari. And the newest prisoner that the queen wants her to torture."

Farrun's hands gripped Fynly's shoulders. Why would Klark enjoy torturing a prisoner? Farrun had to have been imagining Klark's tone of voice. Klark didn't like torture. She hated it. It gave her nightmares. It made her cry. Even now it sometimes still did.

How could Klark _want_ to hurt a prisoner? Klark had tortured and killed innocent prisoners before. Because the queen had threatened the twenty-six if she didn't. Farrun wouldn't be surprised at all if the queen had threatened _him_ too, to get Klark to do what she wanted. But Klark could never want to torture a prisoner. It was a mistake. He had been imagining it. He had just woken up. Klark said that when you woke up after a while you were tired and sometimes didn't think straight. You made mistakes or stumbled or would just fall back to sleep. That was what it was, Farrun decided, yawning. Come to think of it, he was tired now. He rested his head against Fynly's shoulder, feeling exhaustion dragging him back to sleep slowly. He had misheard or misunderstood. Farrun thought about what he heard though, his sleep kept at bay with the new question. Emerson. That name sounded familiar. He didn't know why, but it did.

"Fynly?" Farrun mumbled to his sister, hoping she'd know, even though he didn't know how she'd know, "Do you know who Emerson is?"

He felt Fynly stiffen and her voice came again softly, "Farron, go to sleep." Eventually, Farrun leaned his head against Fynly's shoulder, closing his eyes and feeling sleep take him.

Finley kept walking, bringing Farron up to Glenn's room. She shook her head, angered. How did Farron get down here? Wasn't Glenn supposed to be watching him? Finley got up the stairs to Glenn's room. She thought about Farron's question. She knew the answer alright. And it wasn't a good one. She had heard the guards talk about the man's name when she had seen him right after she had followed Mathias, Saktar and the queen who had followed Ontari and Clarke. Emerson.

She knew that name. Clarke had told them. Finley's grip on Farron tightened as her mind swam with anger. The Mountain Man. The same one that had tortured Clarke mentally in Ton DC. The others. They needed to know too. Tomorrow, she'd tell them and tell Clarke that she knew and that they needed to tell the rest of their group. Finley wasn't going to do anything now because she couldn't with Clarke, Ontari and the queen herself in the dungeon. But they all needed to talk about this. Because Clarke needed them to.

Clarke needed to know that her decision, whatever it was, would be backed up by all of them. If anything, Finley knew she wanted a piece of Emerson too. She was sure the others would too. Especially the ones that went berserk in their protectiveness like she did. She was sure that Bailey, Mario, Bobbi, West, Parker, David, Beryl, Cody and Cameron would be joining her at the front of the line to try to cut parts of the Mountain Man's body off for all the shit he put Clarke through.

Finley hated him as much as she hated the queen. As much as she hated Kane, Jaha and Abby Griffin for killing the last family she had on the Ark to preserve oxygen when they sacrificed 150 people.

Never mind what Lane and Linden and some other Azgeda Grounders would do when they found out who the man was. Or hell, some of the other orphan kids. The gods and spirits that the Azgeda believed in forbid that Reno found out about the last Mountain Man. Clarke wouldn't even be needed. Reno would sneak in and disembowel the man, laughing the whole time. Finley tried not to snort, for worry that she'd wake Farron up. And Reno was only nine years old. Yikes. What a psychotic kid.

Then again, she couldn't really blame him. What else was going to happen when a kid's parents deliberately starved their only child for years in hopes of killing him for their own survival? No wonder Reno killed them. She liked the kid well enough. She, Dallas, Frank and Paul had a good enough relationship with the kid. Just as long as he didn't hurt any of them, she was fine with him. He was just that kid you did not want as your enemy, otherwise you better prepare to kill him first, because you knew he'd do worse to you, given the chance.

She'd talk to Clarke tomorrow. But right now, Finley needed to get Farron back to bed.

She got Farron up to Glenn's room, opening the door and coming in. The door must have creaked enough to alert the boy and Glenn was suddenly snapping up, sitting up, eyes open and his right scarred arm was reaching for the hilt of his dagger on the shelf next to his Star of David and his "yarmulke" or "kippah." As soon as he saw Finley carrying Farron though, his posture relaxed and he let go of the handle of his dagger. He breathed out in relief, smiling.

"Hey, Finley." Finley nodded, scowling. "I thought you were on babysitter duty, Glenn." Before Glenn could say anything, she added, "Farron almost saw Clarke torture someone in the dungeon." Glenn winced, glaring at nothing. Finley figured he was angry at the queen. Whenever one of them got this angry and the queen wasn't around, it was more than understandable. Besides, it wasn't like they could show how much they hated the queen to her face or to anyone loyal to the queen.

That would earn a death sentence. And likely not a quick one.

"Give the brat here." Glenn grumbled sleepily, reaching his arms out. Finley leaned over and handed Farron to Glenn. When Glenn took the boy into his arms, Finley pulled off Farron's weapon belt and put it down on the floor at the foot of Glenn's bed. Glenn took off Farron's jacket so the boy wouldn't be boiling with all the fires and coals keeping the room warm. When Glenn had Farron settled next to him, Finley spoke quietly to her brother, "Glenn? Tomorrow we need to talk." Glenn lifted his head. "About what?"

Finley smirked and shook her head. "Tomorrow, dumbass. Just get to sleep. I'll tell you tomorrow. Make sure Farron doesn't get to the dungeon next time."

Glenn nodded and lay down next to their brother, hugging the boy close again and Finley slipped out of the room, closing the door gently, hoping Farron didn't wake up. She'd tell Glenn tomorrow. And she was damn sure that Glenn, despite how calm he was would want Emerson's blood just as much as she did when he realized who was in that dungeon.

Finley tried not to pay attention to the many uneasy thoughts she had about Clarke torturing Emerson and enjoying it. About what it would mean. But she needed to go downstairs, make sure Mathias was cooperating. Or at least, wasn't about to spill anything to the queen. If he tried to, Finley would just unsheathe a dagger and slide it into Mathias's throat. What would happen next would be simple. Finely would claim that Mathias was a traitor to the queen. And given that Finley had done so much for the queen, things that were so much more terrible and so much more useful than the things Mathias had ever done, the queen would not even be bothered about it. She would probably even believe it.

Of course, there was an additional reason. Finley wanted to see what Clarke was going to do. She wanted to see how Clarke was going to react to Emerson. If she really _was_ going to do what she said she'd do. Finley wouldn't have blamed Clarke if she did. If it was her in Clarke's place, she probably would have run Emerson through as soon as she had the chance. And even after the man would have ended up dead, she likely would have stabbed him multiple times just to get her rage out till Emerson would end up being a mass of bloody slashes and stab wounds bound to the bars of the cage. She had to give it to Clarke for the older young woman's restraint.

She was going to go downstairs and see. She had a feeling that Clarke would know she was watching. They'd talk afterwards.

Finley had almost wanted to tease Glenn about Rora not being with Glenn tonight, but wouldn't judge. Her and Jarra, given their occasional different work schedules, couldn't always be together when they wanted to. Jarra had her own work duties tonight before she would end up dragging herself to her and Finley's bed.

In Rora and Glenn's case, it was because Rora, while being a swift and cunning warrior, was shy and quiet about her relationship with Glenn. She loved Glenn. It was disgustingly sweet how much the two of them loved each other. But Rora didn't make it a habit of sleeping with Glenn every night as most of them did with their partners. Rora adored Glenn, but there were some nights that she felt a nervous to be with Glenn sexually when other people were nearby. But Mario had grumbled when he found out from Kristin who had seen Glenn and Rora together in the baths once that it was a good thing they all had their implants in, otherwise Rora sure as hell would have been pregnant by now. Avery, who had been with them had kicked him in the shin and asked if Mario was one to talk, what with all the girls he had sex with. Mario had flipped Avery both middle fingers and snorted that Avery was no better with her girlfriends. And that if Avery had been a male and didn't have any implant, all of her girlfriends would be pregnant. That had amused Finley and a few of the others for a while. Finley was happy for Glenn.

They all should get as much happiness as they could get their hands on, considering how much shit they had to deal with in the Ice Nation under Nia's rule.

It was why it was all the more reason why she didn't like that she was going to have to tell Glenn and the others what was going on. It was like the moment they started forming a life together, finding happiness where they never thought they would find happiness, and found that they had a way to fight against the wicked woman that had been holding them hostage for months, they were being faced with something completely gruesome.

That the last Mountain Man was here and that Clarke wouldn't be the same after this.

 **(Page break)**

Clarke stood before Emerson, gripping the knife like it was her lifeline. The rage swam through her blood. She needed to torture him. It wasn't debatable anymore. She needed to get some of her anger out or she'd explode. She needed to take something from Emerson. Not that she hadn't already taken plenty from him. But she needed to lash out. She needed to hurt him. Finally having him here? She needed his blood.

Next to her in the cage was a wide, round, wooden tub full of soapy water. It had been filled with soap and warm water for her to wash the wound she would make on Emerson's hand.

Clarke closed in on Emerson, raising the blade, teeth ground together, body rushing with the adrenaline of her rage and pain, blade going to Emerson's right hand, the man's struggles not deterring her, only fueling her rage, spiking it even more strongly.

As soon as the blade broke the skin and Clarke heard Emerson's painful, muffled groans, something that Clarke knew she should never feel under these circumstances flooded her entire being. Something that shouldn't have rivaled the ecstasy that she had experienced two hours or so ago with Ontari in those furs. Something no one should feel when cutting open a person's hand with the sole intention of torture.

Pleasure. Euphoria.

Ontari watched the scene and finally turned away, eyes locking with her mother's, Ontari's calm and cold composure the only thing holding her anger over what the queen had finally gotten Klark to do at bay.

"Mother," Ontari spoke softly, not believing that she managed to keep her voice calm, "How did you find the last Mountain Man? How did you even know he was on Podakru land?" The queen smirked. "I have spies you wouldn't even imagine. Not even you know how many, my dear, powerful daughter." Ontari narrowed her eyes. And that was as evasive as ever.

"No games, mother," Ontari said dryly, fighting the need to clench her fists as she heard the groaning from the Mountain Man, knowing the pleasure Klark was taking from it. "If Klark and I are to one day take the throne, we need to know your spies. And your contacts. Or are you going to let us inherit the throne blind, mother?" Nia's eyes narrowed, but she grinned. "Watch your tongue, daughter." The woman chuckled. "I have no such intentions. Very well. Tek is an extraordinary thing, isn't it? Especially those amazing radios."

Ontari froze, eyes narrowing in confusion. What? Of all the sentences she thought she'd hear from her mother, that was not one of them. Tek? And radios? Ontari knew what a radio was. Klark had told her and Ontari had heard of them existing in the old world before the bombs. But why was her mother talking about them? Of all the random things she had expected her mother to say, that didn't even come close.

" _I'm going to invite the Commander over for a meeting,"_ that was more expected, even if it was random. _"I'm going to set war on another village."_ That was random, but it would have had more to do with the conversation than what her mother had just said. _"I'm thinking of getting married again."_ Okay, maybe not that one.

Either way, Ontari had no idea what her mother was talking about.

At her daughter's questioning look, Nia supplied, still grinning, "Radios can help people communicate. Across countries. Across seas even. And in the Podakru lands? There is someone who has radio tek. He was using it to see who he could contact. He reached a radio that was left in one part of our lands." Ontari stared. An operable radio? One that still worked? That was strange. Had her mother made sure it was operable somehow? "A radio that worked?" Ontari asked. "After the bombs? Does Klark know this?"

Nia chuckled, "Of course not. I'm expecting _you_ to tell her, since you tell her everything. And when he reached me, I told him who I was and he said that he found someone who was a Mountain Man. I offered some gold for him if he told me where precisely the Mountain Man was in the Podakru territory. And the rest is history."

Ontari took this information in. Someone in the Podakru territory had found out who Emerson was and had gone through the trouble of operating a radio and contacting someone. She didn't know any of the Podakru who were in contact with her mother. And any spy would have had to be completely unmarked with any symbols or scars, otherwise they would have been recognized as Azgeda.

"This man," Ontari began carefully, mind comprehending how this had happened, "He offered the Mountain Man for gold? One of our spies?" Nia chuckled, "Oh no. This man was no Azgeda. He wasn't even Podakru. He was Skaikru." Ontari was startled by this piece of information. Her eyes widened and she froze. All of the muffled screams the Mountain Man was producing were blocked out by the Azgeda heir's shock as she processed this.

A Skaikru outside of Klark and the twenty-six had done business with her mother? Who? Did this person know that Klark was here?

"Who?" Ontari asked, feeling at a loss. "Do they know about Klark? Did they demand her return?" The queen scoffed at that question. "As if they're in any position to demand Wanheda back from us. We have her. And she has every reason to stay." The queen grinned and nodded at the cage behind the two of them. "She certainly does now." Ontari stiffened only then, remembering the torture that was occurring behind her. Torture that for once, was being enjoyed heavily by Klark.

Ontari tried to push that incredibly ugly piece of knowledge out of her brain. She needed to pretend that this wasn't happening. If she wanted to get answers from her mother and able to focus on those answers, she had to block out the fact that Klark's heart was descending into hatred and pleasure of causing pain to another.

Gritting her teeth, Ontari forced out, "Is this Skairku loyal to us?"

The queen shook her head, smirking, "Oh no. I think he is loyal only to himself. But he offered the Mountain Man after discovering him for the sake of gold. All so he could save his own life. Everyone has a price, dearest. And that Skaikru man is no different." Ontari's anxiety and frustration was starting to build. Added with her unable to block out the Mountain Man's muffled screams that she knew Klark was relishing, she wasn't sure how much more patience she would have in this situation. "The Skaikru's name?" She inquired, "What was it? I wish not to hear about any informants we have without all the information available. What is his name?"

"Well," The queen said after only a moment, "Since we already have Klark torturing and now enjoying the torture, I think it's safe to tell you. It's someone else I intend to eventually deliver to Klark. The man thinks he's safe because I was willing to trade gold with him. But as soon as I find out where he is, I will send forces to bring him here so Klark can torture him. And why wouldn't she? If the things that Klark and the twenty-six have said are true, then he is responsible for a great deal of their misery."

Ontari's heart froze. What? Who _was_ this person her mother was talking about?

"Mother…," Ontari whispered, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice, "Who are you talking about? Who is this man?"

Who was this person? The person that her mother was luring out into the open so that she could bring the man to Klark to kill? Someone that had hurt Klark and the twenty-six so much that Klark would itch to torture him?

"His name," The queen said, purring the words out, "Is one I'm sure you've heard from your entarg before. It's Thelownyus Jaha. He discovered Emerson when in the Podakru territory and got him talking. Then he reported Emerson's presence for food and gold."

Ontari's brain stopped working. Her heart stopped as well. The fires in the dungeon didn't help the iciness that touched her. What? The man that had killed Klark's father? That was responsible for the deaths of many loved ones on the Ark, all for the sake of preserving air and food?

Her mother knew where he was and was going to offer him as means of enjoying torture for Klark?

Ontari thought she might have needed to worry before when the Mountain Man had first been revealed to her. Now? Now there wasn't any chance Klark would hold back. The murderer of Klark's father just at the queen's fingertips?

If Ontari wasn't afraid for Klark's mental state before, she was now.

 **(Page break)**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

The Sky people had gone to their hammocks and were resting. Lexa for one was happy not to have to hear any of the Sky children's clamoring. Sharlot, the girl that had stowed away on board had slipped into the hammock with her "brother," Wels.

The Commander understood the Sky peoples' bonds. They were recognizable. The young nightbloods that she trained had the same bond with each other. It made Lexa mournful thinking of them and their relationship. The nightbloods knew what they were destined for. Only one of them would survive the Conclave. Lexa heard footsteps approach and tore her gaze from the black, star filled sky to look at Onya who was walking towards her.

"Heda," Onya said, smirking, holding a black leather covered parcel under her right arm, "Shouldn't you be sleeping? You are needed tomorrow for decisions." Lexa snorted, leaning back against the wooden wall of the ship. "They know their orders. We stay on course and we go to the Azgeda. Nothing more than that." Onya chuckled, reaching her Heda. Lexa looked down at what her once mentor was carrying. "What is that?" Onya pulled the parcel out from under her arm, unwrapping the leather folds from around it. "It's something I found in Wels kom Skaikru's things. He gave it to me before he and the small goufa went to bed. It's something of Klark's."

The Commander now paid her full attention to Onya, looking at the parcel Onya was unwrapping. Something of Klark's?

Onya's face caught Leksa's attention even more though. Her eyes were full of sorrow, if only for a few moments as she pulled open the leather wrappings. Onya said, voice heavy, but unreadable, "Wels kom Skaikru said he found it when Klark left the camp. He found it on the camp's grounds. Klark must have torn it off when she left camp."

As soon as Onya said that, Leksa knew with dread what it was that Onya had in those wrappings. It couldn't be…

Onya opened the package fully, showing what Leksa had feared would be in its folds. The necklace that Onya and Leksa had made for Klark. A necklace made of wood, stone, bone and bits of metal. It was a thick leather string dyed a light sky blue, strung with black and green beads, brown and black hawk feathers and stone, wood and metal pendants, the pendants all engraved with Trikru symbols that each meant something different. The pendants read things like "Devotion," "Loyalty," "Heart." Some of these markings might be odd for their people, even amongst the most devoted couples that would be unioned. But given how much Leksa and Onya both knew Klark's views on love and the heart, on having a fulfilling life, it had meant something to the three of them. The pendants' shapes varied, from small squares to wide arrowheads.

Leksa recognized each pendant she had made and each pendant Onya had made. When one had chosen a homon to eventually union with, they would make a necklace themselves and offer it to their homon. Klark had told them that the Skaikru had a similar tradition. Only with rings.

Leksa barely breathed when she pushed herself off the wall of the ship, the breeze hitting her face coolly. Leksa didn't even feel the soothing sensation. Her eyes were on the pendants, the night dark, but she was provided light from the torches on board. Even in pitch black, Leksa would have recognized the pendants. She didn't look at Onya as she leaned over the necklace. Her words were thick with pain as she whispered, "She tore it off? Wels is sure she didn't lose it?" Those last words felt laughably hollow to the Commander. She knew Klark hadn't lost the necklace. She knew.

Klark hadn't lost anything except her faith in her homons.

"You know she didn't." Onya said, and Leksa didn't even need to look at the woman who had been her childhood teacher to know that the older warrior's eyes would be full of anguish. They both knew in that moment that Klark had ripped this necklace off just before leaving camp. She had ripped it off as if to sever the last ties between her and her homons and had left the necklace discarded on the ground. Till Wels had eventually found it.

Leksa found her voice weak when she spoke next, closing her eyes, feeling heat begin to accumulate behind the lids. "Did…did Klark understand what this necklace meant?"

She already knew the answer. Onya wouldn't have suggested making this necklace as the older had in the first place unless Onya had told Klark before about what this kind of necklace's meaning was. Klark had known exactly what this necklace meant. If Leksa needed any real proof, all she had to do was recall Klark's reaction when the other two women had presented her with the necklace in offering. The incomprehensible joy on the young sky woman's face had told both Leksa and Onya everything they needed to know about how Klark felt about the offer.

"You really are asking that, Heda?" Onya asked, her voice allowing sadness to edge into it. The Commander, when she was sure that she had successfully kept her tears at bay, opened her eyes and stared at the necklace again. Wels had given this necklace to Onya and not to her. That spoke a great deal about how the young man felt about her and about Onya. It seemed he trusted Onya more than he trusted her.

Not able to look at the union necklace anymore, Leksa lifted her head and looked into Onya's dark, sorrowful eyes. "If we thought she might not hate us, I suppose we know now."

Onya nodded and looked away, jaw and body so tight that Leksa swore even in the dark she could see veins along Onya's neck. Klark had ripped off her union necklace and had cast it into the dirt before she had left camp. There really wasn't anything else to say about how Klark felt about her homons than that. She had severed the last ties she had with them and had thrown it away.

Because Leksa and Onya had thrown that bond away first.

The Commander stepped back from the necklace, unable to look at it anymore. She glared out into the black, frothing sea. The more she thought about how badly she and Onya had destroyed Klark's trust, the more she wondered just how much left there was for her, Onya and Klark.

The memory of their scout's information weighed heavily on her now. When they had spotted Klark with the Azgeda, the sight they had described was terrifying at best.

Klark, atop a large, muscled, piebald horse, overseeing a village being invaded with other Azgeda warriors.

Klark had been described wearing heavy black and white furs, blonde hair braided. Some of those braids had been described as being decorated with bones, fangs and claws. Klark's face had been the most frightening part of the report. The report was that Klark's face had been masked with the traditional white face paint and a Azgeda tattoo on the back of her neck, seen between the three braids that Klark's hair at the back had been made up of at the time.

This information, while disturbing for Leksa to receive initially had made a certain amount of sense. To stay alive, Klark had done what the queen wanted. That was what Leksa had decided at the time of hearing what the scout saw. And Onya believed the same. The only thing that had chilled Leksa to the bones was what Klark must have gone through in the Ice Nation for her to have to take up the attire, the face paint and the tattoo of those savage people. But now? Seeing the necklace now? Seeing that Klark was willing to sever what was between the three of them after Mount Weather?

Leksa wasn't sure she couldn't believe that the decision had been entirely made out of fear for the sky woman's life. Had Klark become Azgeda to hurt the two of them? For revenge instead of for survival?

That question would gnaw at Leksa, not let her sleep for all of tonight, and the Commander knew it. She looked at Onya, certain that the grim-faced older woman would be haunted by the same question the whole night.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sharlot: Charlotte**

 **Thelownyus: Thelonius**

 **Guest: Well, since you've brought it up, obviously you want to talk about the stupidity and the wrongdoings of Lexa.**

 **Well, here we go. Something else that's not talked about as much? It's just how the Commander treats everyone around her who even remotely don't obey her the way she wants. Let me explain. Remember that guy that didn't accept the Ark people being in an alliance with the Trikru? Remember the guy that yelled in the Commander's face about it in season 2 after Finn was killed by Clarke as a mercy?**

 **A guy that lost his family? How does the Commander react to him? She lets Gustus nearly beat him to death. One of her people, who she's** ** _supposed_** **to protect, and she lets Gustus beat him almost to death. A man that lost his family thanks to Finn, just remember that. And then there was the Azgeda guy in season 3. He calls Lexa weak (which she sure as hell is), and so Lexa throws him out a freaking window. How often does that even happen?!**

 **And I know, the Azgeda man threatened Clarke. I know that. But when you kill one of your subjects so easily without any true cause of it? Just when the only grounds are "being called weak?" Even without a warning? Just as a means of threatening your enemy-the Ice Queen, then there is a word for you.**

 **We have a word for people like Lexa. In fact it's the same one we use for the Ice Queen and Thelonius Jaha and _I_ certainly and always will use for Bellboy Blockhead. **

**Tyrant.**


	14. Want and Need are very different: Part 1

**Swtid77** **: I'm sorry to tell you this, but as I don't want to lead you along by the nose like that fucker, Rothenberg would, you probably should know that I'm going to be fairly clear who Clarke is going to end up with. And it's most likely not going to be Anya and Lexa. There are more than a few AnyaxClarkxLexa fics that I've found so there's that, you know? But I'm going to be honest with you, it's unlikely the three of them will end up together in this. I mean I've made it pretty obvious that Clarke basically sees Ontari as the focus of her support system as well as the twenty-six. So yeah…..I'd advise you not to get your hopes up. Sorry. Again, I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm telling you this now so that you don't put too much faith in Clarke getting back together with Lexa and Anya. Thank you for the reviews.**

 **Oh, and P.S., I wouldn't put too much stock in what Abby could do for Clarke. I sure don't. Lol. Yeah, lady. Get your husband killed and your kid sent to Earth to plausibly die. Nice job. And no one gets to say that Abby did Clarke and the other 100 a favor. She did it for herself. Would she have suggested Jaha do that if Clarke** _ **wasn't**_ **one of the 100? That's what I'm wondering. And she certainly didn't do it for them, not when she was hoping to reap the benefits of Clarke and the other kids' efforts and was affronted when she didn't get immediate authority and Clarke didn't fall in line. Yes, Abby, Clarke** _ **is**_ **just a child. A child that's made it on Earth way further than you have. And a child hilariously that you neglect the** _ **moment**_ **something goes wrong. Sorry, I really don't like Abby.**

 **Trigger warnings for mentions of torture and child abuse**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 14: Want and Need are very different: part 1:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Emerson's muffled moans and cries had finally become quieter. His arm was squirming uselessly against the binding on it, tying it to the bar of the cage he and Clarke were in. He thrashed, trying to get relief for his hand, but unable to get the back of his hand to the bar at the angle he was tied. Clarke breathed out, elation running through her and finally leaving her, the last bits of it settling down inside her, awaiting to be let out again. She stepped back from the bound Mountain Man, smiling coldly at the gouged out wound, missing the part of skin that she had sliced at.

Clarke finally released the knife, tossing it into water saturated in herbs and the fat of cattle inside the wooden tub at her feet to the left, right hand that had clenched hard around the knife's handle ached at how hard she had been holding the bladed weapon. The blood-soaked weapon splashed into the soapy water that was already red with Emerson's blood and Clarke could almost see it out of the corner of her eye dropping down to the bottom of the tub. It wasn't valuable. That knife likely had been grabbed by the queen last minute when Nia had seen both her heirs going off to the dungeon. The knife would be cleaned. If not, there were others.

Clarke stepped close to Emerson as his jaw tightened around his gag, his pain likely overwhelming. Next to Clarke, the guards ordered to go in to see to Emerson's cut after Clarke was done maiming him got ready to move in, but Clarke wanted to say something to him first.

Clarke leaned in, smiling as she got close, a cold glint in her eye as she spoke to the man, "Your family died in a way they never should have. But you? You're going to die slower than any of your people ever died. You're going to suffer the pain of a thousand deaths for what you did to my people." Emerson let loose a pained, muffled growl as his enraged, wide, brown eyes glared at her. But as he was bound to the poles of the cage, he could do no more than that. Clarke knew she shouldn't have felt as much satisfaction seeing him like this as she did. But she did. She felt so, so much satisfaction. So much delicious, cold and murderous satisfaction that it should have sickened her to the stomach. But it didn't. Clarke then said something she knew, even as she said the words would haunt her for the rest of her life as she spoke them quietly to Emerson, saying the names of the man's dead family members, "If only your daughters, Nina and Harriet could see you now. Their father this helpless and pathetic. If only your loving wife, Anna could see you now. See how you couldn't help her daughters survive. If only your little brother, Jimmy could see you. What would he think?"

Emerson screamed, lunging at Clarke, the bonds holding him to the bars of the cage keeping him from even going an inch near her. Clarke smiled, now officially feeling sickened to her stomach by what she just said to the man. He deserved everything he got, but using his dead wife, dead younger brother and two very young daughters who had never had a say in their lives or a say in what was to happen to the people the Mountain Men took as prisoners was a new kind of low. Even for her.

Still, Clarke maintained her gruesome smile. "Just know Emerson, your family's suffering is over. Yours on the other hand? It's just begun." Emerson's pained brown eyes stayed on Clarke with burning hatred in the orbs. Clarke backed away from the seething and sweating prisoner and the guards ordered to heal the man's wound came forward.

Not only would it be inappropriate for Clarke to heal her own gift when he had been brought here for her to slice apart for enjoyment, but it would be unseemly for any guard to expect one higher in authority than them, much less the to be wife of the queen's heir to heal such a lowly Mountain hok. There would be no question at all that anyone, save for Clarke and her entarg and the queen would be the ones to heal the man.

Clarke left the cage, her heart seeming to stop as she left the door's opening, stepping into the hall of the dungeon next to the shocked Ontari and the pleased Nia. Clarke felt like her mind was racing and her heart just couldn't start its beating again all in one. There was too much going on. So much left over elation and twisted pleasure. So much shame over using Emerson's family, including his innocent daughters against him, and suspecting that Ontari had heard that. So many questions about whether or not she could actually do something like this to Emerson again, knowing how horrifying and how good it felt at the same time. Doing something like that? Even if it was only one flesh wound? Doing it for sadistic purposes? It was intense. It was a rush. And it was sickening.

Could she do it again? Even if it was to Emerson? Could she do something this cruel and indulgent again, even if it was to the man that had haunted her nightmares for quite a long time now?

Clarke shivered, reeling over what she had done and enjoyed doing. That was all too similar to the first time she had killed. The only difference was that when she had slipped the knife into Atom's neck, it had been for mercy because Atom had been in pain from the fog and this time around, Clarke had used a blade to commit harm, with the sole purpose of making someone feel only pain. Wanting the person she had cut into to feel only pain. It was too intense for words. Even when she had shut off her emotions so that she could feel nothing when she had first invaded a village at Nia's order, so as to protect the twenty-six could compare to this. Because Clarke had never allowed herself to feel anything in those situations.

This was too much. And she was going to have to think about what to do next. Clarke's eyes then traveled upwards and found Ontari's sad, brown eyes looking back at her and the blonde almost shuddered immediately. Gods, it had been like everything had faded from existence when she had cut into Emerson. It was like Clarke had forgotten that everyone else was here except for her and the last Mountain Man. She hadn't even really thought about how Ontari would react to what she saw her entarg doing.

Clarke kept her eyes locked with Ontari's pained ones and Ontari then turned away, much to the aching in Clarke's heart and the black haired woman looked at her mother. "Mother," Ontari said to Nia, "I need to speak with Klark for a few minutes. And we should get back to bed. It's late and I think both of us have had enough excitement for one night. If you don't mind, mother."

Nia smirked. "Of course, dearest. I couldn't deny you anything. And I imagine that you and Klark have already have had a great deal of enjoyment tonight, even before your entarg found the Mountain Man here. Please by all means, the two of you, head off to your quarters, if you will." Nia moved out of the way, an all too pleased smile on her face as she regarded her heirs.

Clarke was restraining her need to glare at the older woman and kept her focus on Ontari. "We should go back to our room." Ontari agreed quietly, looking like she was going to be depressed or something. Clarke fought a shiver. She never wanted Ontari to feel that way. Much less because of her. Ontari began to move down the hall, past her mother, saying her goodnight. Clarke bowed her head as respectfully as she could. She lifted her head and spoke quietly, spoke with more genuine honesty than she ever had for the past four months to the queen, feeling Emerson behind her. "Thank you for your gift, your majesty." The queen smiled in that reptilian way that always gave Clarke the shivers and gave a little nod of her head. "I am so pleased that you appreciate my generosity. I think you'll find there are many paths that will open up for you once you let go of that soft and gentle regard you have for life and realize that there is great pleasure in cutting your prey up. Cutting them down into the lower creatures they are, you will find nothing but salvation for your pain."

Clarke's jaw tensed, and it hurt how true the queen's words sounded. Was the queen really wrong? After all, hadn't Clarke just discovered that such a horrifying statement was actually accurate? Hadn't she herself found a type of twisted salvation in Emerson's torture? Clarke just nodded, averting her eyes from the queen, hoping the older woman didn't see her uncertainty, even though she was positive that the queen detected it anyway.

"I should be going to bed now, your majesty." Clarke managed out, bringing a small chuckle from the older woman. "Of course, Wanheda. I shall see you and Ontari tomorrow. Goodnight, Klark."

Nia turned to Ontari who Clarke saw, her stomach dropping, looked like she was wound tighter than pulled back bowstring. Her jaw was tight and her dark eyes fixed on Clarke as the blonde got closer. "Goodnight, Ontari." Nia said, voice still holding that unsettling pleasant lilt that it did when Nia had spoken just now to Clarke. "I shall heal up the Mountain Man. For Klark's next use of him."

Clarke tried not to shiver at the mention of "next use." She could almost feel Ontari become tenser next to her with the ebony-haired woman's mother's words. The two of them walked out of the lit dungeon and into the courtroom, going to the stairs.

Both Clarke and Ontari were silent the whole way up. Clarke wanted to say something, but knew she could not. She just couldn't find the right words. How did you properly say to another person, _"I'm sorry I screwed over your hope of me not being as bad as your mother? I'm sorry I basically gave your psychotic mother what she wanted."_

There were not enough nights the two of them could spend together that could make up for what Clarke had done, and the blonde knew that. The two of them reached the floor where Clarke's room was and Clarke took a breath, deciding that Ontari probably wanted nothing to do with her for the rest of the night. She fought a sob as she started walking over to her room, knowing she'd need to start the fire for the coals and the fireplace to warm her room up. She was almost halfway through the hallway, when a tight grip wrapped around her left wrist. Clarke whirled around, eyes narrowed, locking them with Ontari's eyes.

"Don't." Ontari shook her head. "Come upstairs, please. I don't want to sleep without you." Clarke felt a new shiver run down her back at that. She had thought Ontari would be disgusted by her actions tonight. Or at least disappointed. Ontari added, hand tightening around Clarke's arm. "And I don't want you sleeping alone either. Please."

Clarke's lower jaw dropped. Heat seeped into her chest. She tried to read all of Ontari's face. She read Ontari's eyes over and over again. There was no deceit, and no sign of pity or sympathy. This wasn't a pretense or an act of pity. Everything about this was genuine. Clarke couldn't stop the small whimper that left her throat. If she had been surrounded by her armies or near the queen at that moment, Clarke would have kept a tight lid on her voice and made sure to keep her emotions composed. But she was not surrounded by her armies or anywhere near the queen now. Right now she was alone, with her entarg, Ontari and Ontari was being understanding, comforting and forgiving.

Clarke nodded, barely realizing that her feet were now moving in the opposite direction of he room until she was practically up against Ontari, left shoulder against the other woman's chest. Ontari released Clarke's arm only then and the same hand that had been gripping Clarke's arm rose up and with care, stroked Clarke's back in the same reassuring rhythm, over and over.

Ontari started moving up the stairs again, herding Clarke along up the stairs, step by step. Ontari's steps on the stairs were made with ease and Clarke could practically feel the other woman's heated, pained gaze on her as they moved up. It seemed to take only moments for them to reach Ontari's room and Clarke half felt like she was dreaming when they entered the warm room, bathed by the heat that covered the room with lit coals and fire in the fireplace.

Clarke heard the door close behind her, hearing the latch go into place. She wanted to turn to Ontari, but her feet wouldn't move, her eyes staring into the still billowing fire at the center of the fireplace. She knew that Ontari had let her back into the room, but she was still afraid of facing the other woman.

Before Clarke could even think about doing something about her conflict, sure that she had no right to speak to Ontari after what had happened in the dungeon, gentle, warm arms encircled Clarke's waist and Ontari rested her head against Clarke's left shoulder, nuzzling the other's neck. Clarke's hands clasped over Ontari's holding her. Her eyes shut close and her breath left her weakly. Ontari didn't hate. She wasn't angry at her. She didn't blame her.

Ontari lay a soft kiss to Clarke's neck and to her collarbone, holding Clarke close. Clarke could barely manage her words out quietly, only opening her eyes then, "You don't blame me for what I did?"

She felt Ontari shake her head against her shoulder. "No, Klark." Came the slightly muffled response. "Never. I could never blame or be angry at you, Klark. I know why you did it. I'm not angry. I'm scared, Klark." Clarke gaped at that admission from the usually unruffled, fierce Azgeda heir. She turned her head to the left, feeling Ontari lift her head off her shoulder and stared into the other's dark eyes. "What?" Clarke asked before she could help it. She and Ontari had been sharing parts of themselves with each other for months now. But to hear such a vulnerable admission from the trained, practically steel made warrior and heir was shocking on a whole new level.

This young woman who had been trained heavily and mercilessly for fourteen years, since she was taken away from her parents at the age of seven had just openly admitted that she was scared. This woman who had been abducted, beaten, cut and trained by warriors four times her size nonstop throughout her life for years all to be hardened into the queen's ideal heir, just admitted to Clarke, bearing her entire soul, that she was scared. That she was scared of seeing Clarke become as twisted as the queen was.

Clarke gaped up at Ontari who just looked back with a forgiving, yet somber, wet and mournful expression.

Clarke shuddered, turning around in Ontari's arms and wrapping her arms around Ontari's neck, burying her face in the other's throat. "I'm sorry." Clarke practically sobbed into Ontari's neck. "I'm sorry." She felt Ontari's hands slide up and one gently stroked down her hair, the other remained around Clarke's waist, over the blonde's back. Ontari kissed Clarke's cheek and slowly slid down to the bed, sitting on the edge, pulling Clarke down so that the blonde was lowered as well. Feeling the position, Clarke maneuvered herself to she sat down on Ontari's lap.

Clarke leaned her face against Ontari's chest, letting her tears spill into the Azgeda heir's fur jacket. Ontari cradled the blonde in her arms as Clarke wept against her. Ontari just held onto Clarke as Clarke cried, sobbing into the other woman's chest, whimpering "sorry" between her crying, her legs hanging over her entarg's lap, Ontari stroking her right hand down Clarke's hair, left arm holding the other securely. Ontari pressed her cheek against the top of Clarke's head, rocking them back and forth, whispering caring, tender words of forgiveness to the woman she held.

 **(Page break)**

 **Azgeda Territory: Norway**

 **Four months ago**

 _It had felt like forever when Clarke could finally tear herself away from looking at Glenn, Cameron, Beryl, Christopher and Parker's heads and other wounds. After that utterly mortifying and devastating branding had been witnessed by all and experienced by the five poor teenagers that eventually landed in Clarke's care afterwards. The five of them had ended up in the healing room next to Nia and Ontari's throne room. Clarke had put salve on their scars and taped patches over their scars. But the scars would be there for the rest of Parker, Glenn, Christopher, Cameron and Beryl's lives. All five youths had practically been catatonic when Clarke had seen to them. Beryl and Christopher had just sat on the stools, staring ahead at the wall, unresponsive when Clarke had wiped at their head scar and at all the cuts on them._

 _Parker had scowled at the wall and had been pacing for ten minutes straight till Clarke practically ordered her to sit down. Cameron kept clenching her hands into fists, looking like she was going to break into crying and she was going to hit something. Glenn was the only one that offered any kind of response. He'd nod and answer anything Clarke had to ask. His entire composure would be tight though. Like he was all bottled up and ready to pop._

 _Clarke had patched them up. She knew she needed to speak with Ontari soon. But she had to make sure that all five Glenn, Parker, Cameron, Christopher and Beryl would at least okay enough to not be a danger to themselves. So, in order to ensure that they would be looked after, she had seen to them more after she patched them up._

 _Later that day, she brought a barely responsive Beryl and Cameron to Casey's room. Both of them said they hadn't wanted to sleep alone. So Clarke had brought them to Casey. Casey had immediately agreed to Clarke saying that it was probably a good idea to have them sleep in that room. Casey had just nodded and pushed the door open, letting Clarke lead Cameron and Beryl into the room. Beryl and Cameron were currently sleeping on the bed and sofa in Casey's room. It was the middle of the day, but literally everyone knew after what had happened today to the five of them, everyone silently agreed that Beryl, Cameron, Glenn, Christopher and Parker were in serious need of sleep. Even if it was only a few hours. Casey said that if Beryl and Cameron stayed longer, all the way into the night, it was fine. She could sleep on the floor. She had just tossed some furs on the floor and said she'd lay down on them when the time came. She promised she'd watch over them while Beryl and Cameron slept._

 _Glenn had been all clenched up. His fists, his jaw, everything was clenched closed. It was a wonder how he hadn't squeezed his eyes shut. Bobbi and a surprisingly gentle Azgeda girl, Rora had brought Glenn to one of the infirmaries. Dallas had conveyed to Clarke what happened and Clarke had frankly been stunned. Rora apparently had given a sympathetic ear to Glenn while Bobbi had cautiously watched the two. Rora had told Glenn of the first time she had killed. And informed Glenn that she had gotten sick and emptied her stomach as soon as she had killed her first. According to Dallas, Glenn looked stunned by such an admission from a supposedly hardened Azgeda warrior._

 _Clarke hadn't wanted to leave it at that, but between Rora, Dallas and Bobbi, it sounded like Glenn had been in good hands._

 _When Clarke had gone to check on Parker and Christopher, she learned from Kristin, Mario and Blair that Finley, West and David had taken Parker and Christopher to the training barracks and were letting the two now warriors take their anger and frustration out on inanimate targets constructed out of wood and leather. Clarke had been hesitant to leave that alone, but hearing that was a bit reassuring to her. It was good to hear that Finley, West and David were looking out for Parker and Christopher. She had quickly gone to the barracks just to check and confirm this. Indeed, both Parker and Christopher were wielding their weapons and slicing through the straw, leather and wood targets like they were made of cheese. Both Parker and Christopher looked merciless and angry in their attacks. But at least the objects were inanimate. Finley, West and David watched without giving any judgment._

 _Clarke had then walked to the courtroom, finding Ontari almost immediately and their gazes met. Clarke had nodded to Ontari, hoping the other woman understood. Clarke walked to the stairs, up to her quarters. She had the confirmation that Ontari got the hint when she heard footsteps following her. She glanced over her right shoulder, just to check and yes, it_ _was_ _Ontari that was following._

 _Clarke made it to her room's door in seconds and opened it, standing back and letting Ontari practically swoop into the room, both of them silent as Clarke closed the door fully, closing the latch._

 _Clarke turned to Ontari slowly, letting the heat that surrounded them from the fireplace, the stone bowl pedestals and the coals in the ravines around the room soak into them, warming them. "No one will listen in on us?" She asked, wanting to be sure that Ontari could be trusted. With this at least. Ontari nodded. "They wouldn't. We are to be married one day. Us being alone together would not be seen as anything strange." Clarke nodded, eyes going to the floor where her weapons laid. The sword that she had used to make Ontari leave the room a few days ago lay against the thick, black, fur carpet on the floor._

 _It seemed strange to be now asking for Ontari's help. After something like that. But weirdly, everything Ontari had said before made sense. Costia, she might have had a gruesome death, but if Ontari did it, it was likely it was because it truly_ _had_ _been a mercy. Clarke had heard from Lexa what had happened to Costia before her death. All the tortures, all the abuse. And there was almost no way to escape from the Azgeda. By that point, Ontari decapitating Costia unfortunately had possibly been the_ _best_ _option._

 _It was disturbing and Clarke didn't want to accept it, but it made sense. Her back suddenly ached with agony. Clarke hissed, wincing, lower jaw tensing._

 _Ontari stepped closer, eyes narrowing in concern. "Klark? Do you need your back looked at? Do you want me to get one of the twenty-six to look at your back?" Ontari knew that Klark probably wouldn't trust anyone else to come into the room and look at Klark's back. Clarke shook her head. She couldn't have anyone else get between her and Ontari's talk. After her whippings, Edmund, Paul and Blair had decided that they wanted to start their training in healing. But Clarke couldn't deal with that right now._

" _No," Clarke grumbled, "I can't…" Clarke took a breath, looking at Ontari, locking eyes, "I need them looked at. You look at them, alright? I can't deal with anyone else being here. Not with what we have to talk about." Ontari looked startled by this exclamation, but eventually nodded. If this was what Klark needed in order to trust her a little bit more, then she would not debate at all with the other young woman about it. "Is there any salve here? Or bandages here?" Ontari asked, resolved in what Klark was asking of her._

 _Ontari had never healed anyone besides her own warriors. For Klark to ask her to do this, Ontari read it as a strong act of trust. She wouldn't do anything intentionally to wreck that trust. Klark nodded. "After what Atano did," Ontari almost growled at the torturer's name said by her entarg, but stopped herself, "I decided to have a lot of medicine and bandages brought up here. In the drawers under the shelf. By my bed."_

 _Ontari nodded to Klark and walked to the wooden oak shelf and drawers next to Klark's bed. She leaned down and opened the drawer, quickly finding what she had been looking for. Several rolls of gauze and bottles of salve and soap herbs and packaged animal fats for mixing and making it effective._

 _Ontari reached into the drawer and pulled out the gauze, the soap ingredients, the water and the salve and put each item onto the top of the drawer. Her eyes traveled again to the items across the room on the opposite shelf. The drawings and the strange device. The strap with the round dial on it. Ontari reasoned that that had to be an important item. Klark had had it on when she had first been captured. Around her left wrist. When one of the guards had tried to take it when giving her Azgeda clothes instead of the ones she had had one when she was first brought here, Klark had actually threatened the guard. The guard in question, Borve had actually looked like he might faint at having an enraged_ _Wanheda_ _threaten him._

 _Thankfully no one tried to take the device from Klark again. It had to be important, whatever it was. Ontari didn't_ _think_ _that it was a gift from the Commander or Onya. It looked too old and beat up. And it certainly wasn't a traditional Trikru gift as far as Ontari knew of Trikru traditions. Ontari wouldn't ask. She didn't have that right yet. Klark walked over to Ontari, sitting down at the edge of the bed and pulled off her fur jacket and gloves, dropping all three items onto the bed. She lifted her black shirt, eyes never leaving Ontari who was watching her._

 _Clarke wasn't sure how wise undressing was in front of Ontari. She had felt Ontari watch her more than once when the Azgeda heir thought that she wasn't looking. Clarke didn't_ _think_ _Ontari would do anything out of line. That was the whole point of her bearing some of her flesh to the other woman, after all. She half wanted to see how Ontari would react. Maybe she wanted to see if Ontari could be trusted. In more than one way. Clarke stared up at Ontari, waiting, her shirt now raveled up above her shoulders._

 _Ontari nodded, pulling her gloves off and throwing them on the bed. She slowly turned and grabbed some of the salve and soap. She sat down and undid the lid of the salve and opened the package of herbs and animal fat. Klark's eyes were on her like a wounded animal's eyes would be on any passing thing, afraid it would be attacked again. "I'm sorry if this hurts at all." Ontari said, rubbing her hands together with the herbs and cattle fat together, it soaking and becoming soap in the process, her fingers now covered in soap and she leaned in, gently applying it to Klark's whip marks._

 _The parts of Klark's scars that were covered by the thin strips of gauze were already soaked through with dark blood. "I'm going to remove some of the bandages." Ontari said. "They need to be replaced. Is that okay?" Klark nodded, her cautious gaze falling to the floor. Ontari nodded back and dared to move a bit closer. Her left hand, which was less covered by the soap went up to the bandages. She grabbed the ends of two of the bandages and slowly pulled them away from Klark's slashes. She felt Klark stiffen up at the action, obviously experiencing the pain of the removal of the gauze. Klark's lips were close tightly and her jaw was clenched._

 _Ontari sighed sadly, pulling the strips of gauze fully away onto the bed. The gruesome slashes were dark red. Ontari observed them carefully. None of them looked infected. Still she removed more of the gauze. She pulled more of the gauze off and inspected the different slashes. She continued to do this for the rest of the gauze strips. Once all of the gauze strips were off and on the bed, Klark's wounds were all bare to her gaze. Ontari reached up and carefully pushed Klark's hair away from the top of Klark's back, smiling apologetically when Klark glanced at her. "I'm going to put the soap on now." She informed Klark. Klark nodded, still silent._

 _Ontari reached her right arm out and carefully slathered the liquid soap over Klark's wounds. She felt Klark twitch and heard the other young woman hiss. Ontari grimaced. The spirits damn Atano for what he had done. Even if he would have been tortured, had he refused. Damn him. Damn her mother for ordering it. Damn Ivarb for forcing Klark's hand when he attacked Kamirun. Ontari silently cursed herself more than anyone else for not doing anything when Klark had been brutally punished for an absurd reason. Ontari sighed, fighting her own emotional pain at seeing Klark like this. She stroked the dollops of soap water over Klark's slashes. She went back and got the rest of the soap and herbs, rubbing her hands together and repeated the process._

 _She then reached for the salve. She said quietly, "I'm going to put the salve on now, alright, Klark?" She saw Klark nod. Ontari reached into the salve's container and covered her fingers in the dollops of salve. She pulled her hand out and she gently stroked her fingers against Klark's slashes, her hand stiffening when she saw Klark's head had now turned to her, looking at her. Ontari didn't do anything except continue to roll the salve over Klark's back and cuts._

 _She put her left fingers into the container and brought out some more salve, applying it to Klark's back again, both hands on the other woman's sliced up back. She noticed Klark's jaw twitch again at the ministrations, but Klark said nothing. Ontari rubbed the salve down the other slashes, her eyes never leaving Klark's eyes. Now Ontari was sure that Klark wasn't watching her to keep herself safe. That wasn't what was happening here. She saw no caution about Klark's own safety in the other woman's eyes. There was something else going on here. Ontari wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but it felt like Klark was pushing herself back into Ontari's hands. Ontari cocked her head, feeling the pressure against her hands. She carefully rubbed her hands around the slashes, applying the salve still. Ontari wasn't sure what was happening here. If this was part of the deal of Klark trying to accept Ontari's help and saw this as part of the bargain, or if Klark really_ _was_ _interested in her. Or maybe Ontari was starting to imagine things._

 _Just seeing and feeling what she wanted to see and feel. Ontari ignored that thought and continued to spread the salve out onto Klark's wounds. When she was sure that Klark's wounds all were covered with salve, she moved her hands away slowly. Klark's eyes never left her. Ontari turned away finally from Klark and grabbed the rolls of gauze, unwinding the strips and began to apply more of the strips to Klark's back._

 _The intense staring continued, till Klark finally looked away from Ontari and the ebony-haired warrior wasn't sure whether she felt disappointment or relief. Or both. And which of those she felt more strongly. They both knew now wasn't the time to discuss_ _that_ _part of their relationship, whatever the relationship might be. She taped the sides and ends of the gauze over Klark's slashes. When all of the gauze pieces were secured over all over Klark's wounds, Ontari removed her hands slowly, reaching for the water and wiping her hands clean of the blood, soap and salve. She half sensed Klark moving a little off the bed, arms going up to her shirt and rolling it back down her upper torso, covering her now tended to back._

 _Ontari picked up the clean cloth that she had taken out of the drawer and dried her hands. The silence remained between the two. Ontari was certain that Klark knew that they couldn't talk about whatever was between them right now. Right now they needed to talk about what was to be done about the queen and her wrongdoings to her people. She knew that Klark knew this. As much as Ontari wanted to talk about whatever it was that had just happened, she knew that that wasn't their first priority. Ontari, without needing any prompting at all, went to the unused items and put them away in Klark's drawer, closing the drawer. The used and empty package that had once held the soap herbs, animal fat, the bloodied bandages and the wet rag remained._

 _Finally Klark spoke and her voice was so calm that it surprised Ontari. "I can just hang the rag on the edge of the drawer. And I'll burn the rest of the stuff. It's not like it's going to be any use to us now." Ontari looked over at Klark and Klark had reached up and flipped her hair out of her shirt where the strands got a bit tucked in. She lowered her arms and nodded to the fireplace, walking to the bed to get the used things. Ontari didn't say anything, but her hands moved out before Klark could even reach for anything and Ontari scooped the items up, lifting them off the bed and going around the startled Klark to the fire, throwing the bloodied bandages and the empty plastic package in, the fire eating at the items quickly. Ontari turned to Klark, awaiting whatever it was the blonde wanted to discuss with Ontari, though she had an idea. "You wanted to talk about something, Klark?" Ontari asked at last, the heat of the fire warming her hands, drying them faster than any rag could._

 _Clarke eyed the Azgeda woman. She reached for the wet rag and placed it over the edge of the drawer set, letting it dry there. She paced a few times around the room and looked around her own quarters carefully, checking to make sure no one else was in the room besides her and Ontari. She twitched her back a little, testing the new bandages on her back that Ontari had administered to her. She mulled around everything Ontari had said before. She turned back to Ontari cautiously. "The things you said before, was that a trap? Is_ _this_ _a trap?" She asked darkly, Lexa and Anya's betrayal as fresh a wound as if it had happened just yesterday instead of three months ago._

 _At Ontari's sigh, Clarke only bristled, but the Nightblood said in a calm voice, "No, Klark, it's not. None of what I said before was a trap. But just hear me out before you say anything. As I'm sure we both know by now, the queen is dangerous to all of us. I do not wish to be Heda. When the queen has died, I can take command of the throne and you and I will rule Azgeda and we can order the attack on Polis to end before it's even begun. I will send out troops to hunt Roan down if he tries to interfere, but we will have control. Leksa and the nightbloods will be safe. Polis will be safe. The rest of the tribes will be safe. And your people will be safe."_

 _Clarke closed her eyes. She was trying to truly comprehend Ontari's promises. Ontari said, voice covered in finality, "We don't have to be Heda and Hedatu to have everything we want, or as close as we can get to everything we want. Just the queens of the Azgeda."_

 _Clarke opened her eyes and shifted about with her next words, looking at Ontari cautiously. "How do you know I won't report this to queen Nia?" Ontari smiled. Klark wouldn't do that. She was a noble person. And would never put her in danger by reporting her. And even more important that that? Klark knew that she spoke the truth. If Nia lived, the tribes would burn and suffer, including Klark's own people. If Nia had her way, Polis and the rest of the tribes would live in tyranny, much like Azgeda did. Klark had to know that she was right. Klark had seen the ships at the docks. Only the Floukru ships could compare when it came to how fast the Azgeda ships were and how militaristic their design was, was utterly the Azgeda's own. When Nia chose to attack, the people of the mainland would be easy prey. Especially with a nightblood and Wanheda at the head of an army and the tribes being conflicted about who they should follow. And she knew that Klark knew that they could put an end to this before Nia even started an attack, after Ontari and Klark were wed. That they could end this madness before it truly began._

 _Klark would not report her if she knew that Ontari could help prevent what she told the other would happen._

" _I don't believe you will," Ontari said, "I know my mother. I know what her plans are. I promise you, as soon as you and I are unioned a year from now, my mother will begin plans to invade Polis and will plan for Roan to kill the current Heda. You know that's true. And you must know that all of the tribes will be in danger if that happens. You've seen how the queen rules Azgeda. I would not wish that on all of the tribes. Including on all of the Skaikru." Klark stiffened, the suspicion carved on her face flooding from her. Her eyes started widening in comprehension and her eyes jumped across the floor as if waiting for an answer from it._

 _She then looked up at Ontari, cautious again. "If this is in fact a trick, Ontari, I promise you, nothing will save you if you harm any of my people." Ontari bowed her head, smiling, walking away from the fire and getting close to Klark's bed, noting there was a knife Klark's cloak, her wedding present. She would ask for Klark to use that in the blood oath she was about to make. "I expect no less, Wanheda." Ontari said respectfully. Klark nodded slowly her whole body moving as if she were slowly thawing from ice surrounding her body. "So you say you wish to prevent an eventual war and an eventual takeover? If you really want that, and want the two of us to take over as the queens once," Klark scanned the room again out of sheer paranoia before continuing very quietly, "Once Nia is dead, what happens to the twenty-six that I've been protecting? You said they would be under your protection. Is that true?"_

 _Ontari's smile widened in admiration. She had been right. Klark always put her people first. That was what made her strong. "The twenty-six will be safe, Klark. With you as the new kwin, you can order their safety. You can command that they never go to battle again. You could order that they are given more gold and safety than anyone's ever had before. And of course, you can order for your army to aid the other Skaikru in the Trikru territory. You can keep them safe as well once you are the kwin. If Heda has any objections, she would have to confront us. And by then? We would be the queens of our own land and your people would be my people by marriage, and therefore I am obligated to protect them." Klark's lower jaw was unhinging from her upper one again._

 _Clarke rolled around all this information. The twenty-six would be safe and so would the Skaikru. If they went through with this, they wouldn't have to assume so much responsibility and they wouldn't be ordered to hurt anyone else if Ontari's plan was truly to kill the queen. Despite what Lexa had done, Clarke wasn't sure she wanted the Commander to die. And she didn't want any of those kids to die either. And if Ontari was right, then that meant that everyone was in danger of being tortured and ruled the way the Azgeda were. Clarke shuddered at the thought. She couldn't allow that. Even with the twenty-six's lives being dangled above her head as a threat, she couldn't allow that. If she had a chance to help stop that, then shouldn't she?_

 _Clarke looked at Ontari now. Really looked at her. Three months ago, the two women that Clarke had thought would protect her and her people to the death had left her and the 100 and the other Sky People to die in the mountain as if they had meant nothing. But here? Ontari? Ontari was offering to protect them to the death, with such little power. Oh, Ontari might not be any villager, innkeeper or seamstress, but instead was the heir to a throne. But she was still on a lower rung of the ladder that was power, beneath a dangerous, lethal monarch. And she knew well what kind of consequences talk like this would have, should it ever reach that same monarch's ears. Right now, Ontari was risking her tongue, at best._

 _She was risking far more than her tongue._

 _Clarke's heart still ached over the loss of Lexa and Anya. They might still be alive, but Clarke had lost them the moment they had turned their backs on her people. It didn't matter how much a part of Clarke's heart yearned for them still, going back to them wasn't possible, even without Queen Nia keeping control of her. Anya and Lexa had made it clear that that was the case. When both Anya and Lexa had abandoned her and her people, they had decided themselves what their relationship with Clarke was. And that relationship was now empty. Void completely of any obligation Clarke might have once had._

 _But Ontari, who wasn't even married to her yet, was offering all her people protection. She was offering both the twenty-six protection and the protection of all the people in Trikru territory. Bellamy, Octavia, Wells, Charlotte, Raven, Finn, her mother, Kane, Monty, Sterling, Fox, Jones, Monroe, Miller, Harper and the others. They would all be safe. Lexa and Anya couldn't order another attack on them or turn the other way while an attack on them was happening again because they would have to deal with all of Azgeda. The Azgeda, the largest tribe in the world. And the most brutal. And even if Lexa and Anya didn't believe the Skaikru to be their people, the Azgeda would. Clarke stared at Ontari, shocked, understanding that while she might not have the two wives that she wanted, she just might have the one she and her people_ _needed_ _._

 _Want and_ _need_ _were very different things._

 _Clarke found her next words coming out before she could stop them, "Alright. I agree. I'm with this plan. But no harm at all can come to the twenty-six once we take control. Same with my people in the Trikru's territory. No harm is to come to any Sky Person when we take over."_

 _Ontari nodded, almost grinning with victory. "You will not be displeased, Klark. I assume you know of our customs? Our blood oaths?" Klark nodded and Ontari saw the flicker in those beautiful blue eyes, telling Ontari that she understood. "Won't people notice the cuts?" Klark asked, looking at her hands._

 _Ontari shrugged. "Easy enough to explain. We both train a great deal. Just as long as we don't have obvious cuts on our hands." She added, nodding to the hilt of Klark's knife. "Your wedding gift. If you don't mind." Klark looked down at her knife and looked at Ontari as if really trying to process that this was happening. She reached down and slowly pulled the knife out, the hilt held in her right hand. Slowly, carefully, Klark slashed her left hand at the segment between her thumb and the heel of her hand. Bright crimson blood began to leak from her hand. Eyes never leaving Ontari, Klark turned the knife around and offered it by the hilt to the nightblood._

 _Ontari, not surprised in the least that Klark hadn't even flinched as she administered the cut to her hand, took the knife. She wasn't even a little startled. This woman had barely even let out a small whimper when Atano had whipped her and only tightened her body when she had just had her whip marks looked at. She turned the knife on her hand and sliced the side of her hand open, right below her left smallest finger. "Klark kom Skaikru," Ontari began, looking into the other's eyes, "I vow to treat your needs as my own, and to treat your people as my own. Till the day I die." Klark, startled, shakily brought up her left, bleeding hand to Ontari and Ontari clasped her hand with Klark's, blood seeping into each other's wounds._

 _Eight minutes later both Clarke and Ontari had patched their wounds up, gauze and leather strips clasped over the cuts. Clarke had wiped the black and red blood away from the blade with warm water and the herbs and animal fat that she still had in her drawer. Ontari had given Clarke the rags from the drawer to dry the blade up. Thankfully metal was easier to clean than any cloth. They threw the blood soaked rags into the fire, letting the rags get eaten away by the flames in the live fireplace._

 _Clarke looked at Ontari as they were about to leave her room, "We'll need to tell the twenty-six what we're doing. I want them to be involved. I'm not lying to them." Ontari nodded. "Understood. I would not ask you to keep secrets from them. When you want to tell them, please let me know. Both of us should be involved. They should hear it from you, yes. But they should hear my promise as well. Even if they don't believe it." Clarke nodded, pulling the door open and the two of them left, knowing they would need to speak with the twenty-six soon._

 **(Page break)**

 **Present day**

Farrun looked up at Glen, smiling. He had fallen asleep, but woken up a few minutes after Fynly had brought him to Glen's room. He had been pretending to be asleep since Fynly had turned and left the room. He waited a few minutes before undoing Glen's arms around him again and lowering Glen's arms to the bed, scooting himself off the mattress and heading for the door.

A sleepy voice grumbled from behind him, making the small boy freeze, "You know, you keep sneaking out of bed and I'm going to think that you just don't like me." Farrun turned around guiltily to look at a smirking Glen who was wiping his eyes, yawning. "What's up, kid?" Farrun bit his lip, knowing that "what's up" was Sky Person for asking if there was anything happening that should be known about. "Glen?" Farrun said, looking at the large boy who started sitting up from the bed, "Who's Emerson?" Glen stiffened immediately, staring down at the boy.

"Why are you asking?" Glen asked, bushy, dark brown eyebrows furrowed.

Farrun knew that the name was important, based on how Glen reacted. So it was important for sure. "I heard his name being said in the dungeon. Klark was there. So was the queen."

Glen frowned, mouth pressed into a hard line in contemplation. "I don't know. I mean, I know who Emerson is. I don't know why he was talked about in the dungeon." Farrun nodded. "I heard footsteps just now. Going up the stairs. I think Klark and Ontari are back in their room. Can I go upstairs and sleep with them?" Glen chuckled, smirking, despite the cold chills that ran through him at the mention of Emerson. Why _had_ Emerson been talked about in the dungeon?

"Sure." Glen said, lifting himself out of bed, grabbing his boots and pulling them on. "Let's go upstairs." He got up off the bed and grabbed his knife. He knew how to fight off someone with his bare hands now, but a knife was always helpful, even if it was incredibly unlikely that anyone would be dumb enough to go after any of Wanheda's most trusted warriors.

The two of them opened up the door and left. Glenn closed the door behind him. The two of them headed up the stairs. To Ontari's bedroom. Glenn kept quiet as he moved, but the questions stirred around in his head. Emerson. Why was Emerson being talked about? What did the Mountain Man have to do with Clarke and the queen being in the dungeon? Was it something the queen had brought up to get Clarke into a bad mood so that Clarke would do what the queen wanted her to do?

Any question that he could think of wasn't going to be answered now. They reached the bedroom and came to a stop at it. Glenn was a little relieved that Ontari didn't always have guards at the door, though he sometimes felt that there should be. Especially now that they were involved with an actual rebellion. If anyone caught wind of what they were doing and decided to kill them before they could enact their rebellion, Ontari and Clarke would ideally be the first two they'd go after. Hopefully he could get Ontari and Clarke to have guards here more often.

People they could trust. Casey, Bailey, Finley and Cody would be good options. Someone they could trust with their very lives. Glenn was also more than willing for the job.

He gently knocked against the door and he heard a slight shuffling noise. After a few seconds, he heard the scraping of the metal latch and heard the door creak open. Ontari appeared on the other side and both Glenn and Farron bowed before Ontari quietly told them not to.

"Save the bowing. We're alone." Ontari reassured them. "What is it?" Glenn pointed to Farron. "He wants to sleep with Clarke." Ontari looked down at Farron and looked like she was considering this for a moment before she nodded. "Alright. It probably would be good for her right now to have Farrun nearby."

Glenn narrowed his eyes, not sure what Ontari meant by that, but didn't question the Azgeda heir as the dangerous woman pulled the door all the way open, allowing a happy Farron to walk in and go over to the bed where Glenn saw Clarke lay, asleep, breathing evenly. It was only when Farron went up to Clarke's bedside and brushed his left hand against Clarke's right cheek that Glenn noticed there was moisture. Clarke had been crying.

Glenn looked at Ontari, panic in his chest. "Clarke was crying? Why was she crying?"

Ontari shook her head, eyes hard. "That's not your concern right now. She needs to stay asleep. If you have questions, we can talk about it later. But Klark needs sleep now. Leave it be." Glenn looked at where Clarke was lying, watching as Farron pulled off his boots and took off his weapons belt, putting all three items on the floor and getting up into the bed, his arms wrapping around Clarke, hugging himself to her. Ontari was right. This needed to wait for later.

He'd ask Clarke later what was wrong. As much as he wanted to help with whatever it was that was making Clarke this upset, she had Ontari with her and Farron was here now. If he made more of a fuss about it, then he could cause more harm than good. He nodded, saying goodnight to Farron quietly and giving a short bow to Ontari, earning a roll of her eyes as he departed. He paused in the doorway when Ontari was about to close the door. "Ontari?" Glenn said, looking at the Azgeda heir. Ontari raised her head, curious.

Glenn gave a small smile. "Thank you. For looking after Clarke. I know you do it only for her, not for any of us. But still, thank you anyway. It's really good that she has someone like you taking care of her." Ontari looked a little surprised by this statement, but nodded, face neutral. "Ain. I suppose it is. You and the other twenty-six. You are good for her too. It's good that the twenty-six of you are here for her. Otherwise she would have given up a long time ago."

Glenn shuddered at that thought. He didn't want to believe that Ontari was right, but deep down, he knew she was. Clarke wouldn't have become the queen's warrior for herself. If the only option six months ago had been "join us or die," Clarke wouldn't even have saved her own life. Not at that time. Not so soon after the mountain. But with the lives of twenty-six prisoners being used against Clarke, Clarke had chosen to be the queen's warrior in only minutes.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but the twenty-six of them were the reason that Clarke had survived that day when she had been brought before the queen, just as much as Clarke was the reason why the twenty-six of them were still alive. They had saved each other in that sense.

Glenn was sure there was something in the mythology about fate about how this had happened. Them just happening to drop into the one place where a ruler intended to go against the supreme leader of this current world. Of all places they could have landed in this new world, and they landed in Queen Nia's territory? And they just happened to share a birthplace and home with the same woman that Nia had been trying to get her hands on in order to use her against the Commander?

What were the chances? It was when Glenn openly asked things like this to the others that he often got cynical remarks. Mostly from Mario, Dallas, David, Christopher and Parker.

Casey had been less cynical over time, the more she had thought about the odds of it happening.

Glenn's smile widened and he bowed his head to Ontari. "Thank you, Ontari. Goodnight." "Goodnight." The ebony-haired woman said, slowly closing the door and locking the latch. Glenn walked down the hall, face screwed in disturbed concentration. Ontari knew what was going on with Clarke, obviously. She wouldn't discuss it now, but he really hoped she would be fully honest with him and the others at some point.

Ontari closed the door fully, latching it and walked to the bed, slipping in behind Farrun as the boy buried his face in Klark's neck, arms around her. Ontari gently placed a hand on the boy's back, and let him rest against Klark. Ontari smirked at the boy's attentiveness to Klark. He was good for her. He loved her dearly. Ontari had seen how the boy looked at her. He regarded her as the one who would first and foremost give him instructions. More than his own father. Klark was more of his mother than Tenmar was his father. Ontari had not suggested it to Klark yet, as she was not sure how Klark would react to such a suggestion, but since Tenmar was known for being abusive to his only child, Ontari knew that perhaps it would be wise for her and Klark to remove the boy from his home permanently. And claim the boy as hers and Klark's own son. They would have all the authority in Azgeda to do it. The queen would never allow for Farrun to be an "heir" but she _would_ allow the boy to be taken in by them, if it was her heirs' choice. And Tenmar had no authority in the matter.

Ontari would ask Klark later. When they had this Emerson and Jaha matter behind them. Ontari grimaced, lying down. She would need to tell Klark about Thelownyus Jaha soon. She cradled Farrun behind him, her hand reaching out and gently laying over Klark's hair comfortingly as the other woman slept. Ontari spoke almost silently, "Goodnight, kran in segara." Ontari pulled her arm away from Klark's head and rested it over Klark's waist and Ontari lay her head against the soft fur pile that was her pillow and closed her eyes, trying to cast the many troubled thoughts of her mother and her two little sacrifices for Klark's murderous desires to come out from her mind.

In the hallway, Glenn moved away from Ontari's room, walking down the corridor.

He started heading down the stairs back to his room, passing Mathias's quarters, noticing Finley up against the wall at last minute, almost making him jump.

If it hadn't been for the glint of her sword's handle, he would have completely missed her. She was really good at hiding.

"Hey, Glenny-boy," Finley said playfully from the dark, emerging from the sliver of shadows that she had been using for what Glenn suspected had been a few minutes now. "What are you doing out of bed? I just saw you and Farron going to Ontari and Clarke's room." Glenn nodded, observing the tall, lean, muscled girl with her head of long, dark hair in its long ponytail stalk out of the shadows, smirking.

Finley said, hand moving away from the hilt of her sword, "Farron really wanted to sleep with Clarke? He's such a mama's boy." Glenn rolled his eyes. "Don't be an asshole, Finley. You're telling me you wouldn't be-" Glenn stopped his words before he remembered Finley's situation with her parents. He quieted down quickly, looking away from Finley, feeling the other's playful gaze turning to a glare.

"Yeah, Glenn," Finley remarked dryly, "I _would_ be happy to see my parents again. But they're not alive. So that's not possible. Is it? Thanks for the reminder." Glenn shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying, if I had known when the exact time was when I would see my parents for the last time, I'd want to spend as much time with them as possible too."

He heard Finley sigh and he averted his eyes from the floor and saw Finley shake her head. "I know. The same for me. If I had known when my father would floated and my mother would decide to become a martyr for my sake," Finley quietly snarled out the words, "I would have locked _them_ up to the skybox myself if I had to protect them. But I get it. Yeah…I get why Farron wants to be near Clarke right now." Glenn nodded and said in a soft voice, "Finley? Do you know why Farron's asking about Emerson?" Finley stiffened, eyes hardening again.

"He told you about that?" She asked, voice rough. "Damn. I guess the kid can't help being curious." She glanced at Mathias's door. She looked again at Glenn. "Let's talk. In your room." Glenn nodded after a moment and he walked with her to the stairs, and went back down to his room. Glenn got to his room, opened it and looked around to make sure no one was following them and he and Finley went in, closing and latching the door behind him.

Finley inspected the lit fireplace, the bowls on the stone pedestals and the ravines. All of the coals were lit up and burning. So both of them would be perfectly warm here. That was always a concern in this place. How to make sure you don't lose a finger or a toe. Amongst losing other things. Hodge recently had had a new word that he threw around when it came to making sure he didn't get anything frozen off. His "Burdo." Meaning his dick. Apparently he only learned that word because Aron explained it to him. Hodge had always had a difficulty understanding the Azgeda language. But that was a good point. That was why even with all the fires and coals going, it was a good idea to cover yourself in multiple layers of furs when going to sleep.

When Finley looked at the door, certain it was closed, she then turned to Glenn.

"Emerson," Finley answered Glenn's sleepy but curious gaze, "He's in the Ice Nation. He's downstairs in fact. In the dungeon. The queen brought him here for Clarke to torture. That's why Farron was asking. He heard Emerson's name." Glenn's eyes became huge when he heard that. His eyes grew big and wide. "What?" He asked, " _What?_ " Glenn was now pale. "The hell, Finley? Carl Emerson? He's here in Azgeda? And he's still alive? Why hasn't he been killed over sixty times by now? Doesn't everyone in Azgeda hate his guts?" Glenn half wanted to grab his knife and go down to the dungeon and kill Emerson himself, wanting to eradicate the threat to his friends and family. The man that had been part of a people that had taken so many of the Azgeda. Even Rora's grandmother and uncle.

Glenn didn't like acting out of pure violence, but as soon as he had heard Finley's words, he wanted to end the threat to the people he loved.

Finley snorted, smirking. "An appropriate response to this. But why do you think he hasn't been killed yet, Glenn? Because Nia wants Clarke to be…" Finley glanced at the door again and whispered, "The queen wants Clarke to be as bad as she is. So she'll offer up someone to torture. Just like she always has. And this time it's someone that Clarke really, really has good reason to hate."

Glenn shook his head, comprehending this. His eyes finally shrank a bit, the young man still appearing completely perturbed and stunned. He looked at Finley again. "Does Clarke know he's here?" He asked, a surge of protectiveness running through his bones and his jaw tightened. The same lowlife that had threatened and tormented Clarke and her friends and the one that had made the deal with the Commander was here? Clarke had every right to know.

Finley nodded, grimacing. "What do you think? Of course she does. Remember how tense she was at dinner? I think she's known for a while now. She confronted him in the dungeon." Glenn nodded, eyes wide again. She saw realization cross his face and she narrowed her eyes. "Glenn?" She asked, cocking her head slightly, curious. Glenn shifted a little, worried and Finley found the fact that he looked worried comical, as his quiver stuffed with arrows and his bows were right behind him up against the wall. He was deadly with a bow and all his arrows. "Clarke…," Glenn began hesitantly, "She is in Ontari's room. She's asleep now, but before that…I think she was crying."

Finley froze. It was her turn to look surprised. Her teeth ground together and she held back a snarl. The queen. Damn her to every horrible underworld that existed in mythology. Or actually existed. Whichever. Gods damn her. She had gotten Clarke to act the way she wanted Clarke to act. At last. Finley remembered what she had heard in the dungeon. Clarke had finally given the queen what the woman had wanted. And it had had its effect on Clarke. Finley almost reached for her sword, thinking about going to the queen's chambers. But she instantly stopped herself. The moment she got to the hallway of the queen's chambers, she'd have at least nineteen swords lanced through her body.

Finley let out a small growl as she thought about the toll that was being inflicted upon Clarke thanks to everything the queen was doing to her. "I think maybe we shouldn't leave Clarke to deal with this alone. We should all speak with her. Tomorrow. All of us. You, me, the others? We should all get somewhere, like the back room of the healing center and get Clarke to talk to us about this."

"What?" Glenn chuckled, lifting his eyebrows. "Like a intervention?" Finley shrugged. "Why not? This is a serious problem. And it's hurting Clarke."

Glenn nodded, thinking about the tears he had seen running down Clarke's face. "Sure, but when an addict is having a problem, they're usually not forced to feed their addiction by anything other than their addiction that's pushing them to do it. There's another element here than just Clarke's issues. The queen. If Clarke kills Emerson quickly? Or decides not to do anything at all to him? The queen will flip her lid."

Finley nodded, smirking, "Which is where _we_ come in. _We_ kill Emerson. Slowly and painfully. We give the queen exactly what she wants. A big gory, bloody show." Glenn looked at Finley like he couldn't quite believe what she was thinking. He lowered his head and his eyes widened up at her. "We kill Emerson?" He echoed. "We steal _Wanheda's_ prey? How do you think the queen will react to that? Finley, how do you think _any_ of the Azgeda will react to that? Every last one of them respect Clarke." Glenn shrugged at Finley's glare, "Understandably. But they'll think we're taking away Clarke's rightful revenge."

Finley smirked. "Technically we are. But why don't we appeal to the queen that we have just as much right to kill him as Clarke does? By having Ontari be our spokesperson." Finley added, smirking, "It would help in making sure we keep our tongues." Glenn snorted. Yes, having Ontari be the person to suggest to the queen that he, Finley and the rest of the twenty-six had just as much right to kill Emerson as Clarke was definitely safer for them than _any_ of them doing it.

"And on what grounds would we even have that right stated?" Glenn grumbled, feeling his sleepiness defeated by pure perplexity. Finley shrugged. "Hey, Emerson's crimes were against the Sky people as well as all of the other tribes, right? We're Sky people, aren't we? And Clarke is our mentor. She's the only reason why we survived six months ago. We could make the argument that we're trying to avenge her." Finley added, swallowing as she thought about what else she had heard listening in and getting answers from Mathias himself who had listened in on the queen's conversation with Ontari. "Besides, I think we might have actual grounds to claim that we have the right to torture a prisoner that the queen will be bringing in real soon."

At Glenn's startled look, full of questions, Finley sighed. She should just shut up about this. Glenn was a good secret keeper. But if she told him now, he might not be able to sleep.

She shook her head. "I'll tell you tomorrow, dumbass. I swear. Just get to sleep. But it's important." Glenn gave her an aggravated. "Shit, are you serious, Walsh? You can't just tell me something like that and then not give me all the answers. Are you really not going to tell me till tomorrow?" Finley shook her head. "If I tell you _now,_ you won't go to sleep for a while. Trust me." Finley grumbled, " _I_ don't think I'll be able to get to sleep after what I heard." Glenn scowled. "Not helping, sis. Not helping." Finley sighed. "Look, sorry, but we need to keep what I found out quiet until tomorrow. I promise, I'll tell you tomorrow. Okay? But in the meantime just keep it quiet."

Glenn still stared skeptically at Finley. "Fine." He said dryly. "But I expect answers tomorrow. Or else _you_ can expect a bunch of arrows in your and West's wine pelt tomorrow." Finley scowled. That wasn't a pleasant image. The wine pelt that she, West, Mario and Kristin had made together, but technically belonged to her and West because they killed the muskoxen the pelt came from was used to store loads of wine. It was a pelt for wine made from several muskoxen so it was quite big. And it hung from the rafters in West and Finley's shared room. Naturally, having a bunch of arrow-holes in the thing would leak all of the wine out.

"I promise." Finley grumbled. "And you better not shoot my wine pelt. I'll kick your ass if you do." Glenn snickered and nodded. "Well, thanks for the cryptic note, Finley." Glenn sauntered to his bed, "I guess we'll figure out what to do about Emerson tomorrow." Finley nodded. "Yeah. Talk to you tomorrow, dumb-dumb." Another small chuckle escaped Glenn as he kicked his boots off and climbed into his bed. "Goodnight." Glenn grumbled.

"Goodnight." Finley said, walking to the door and opening it, slipping out, making sure no one was around the hallway. There wasn't anyone. She began walking down the hall, hugging her furs close around her body. What she had found out from Mathias had been huge. She actually had a _legitimate_ claim of revenge on the person that Nia was bringing in next as Clarke's juicy sacrifice.

To be fair, a lot of the twenty-six did, like Clarke did. It was a name that they had cursed many times while being here. Thelonius Jaha. The killer of Finley's mother and the killer of Clarke's father. Finley narrowed her eyes as she edged towards the stairs. Emerson was a problem. But Jaha was a different kind of problem. Because in Jaha's case? Finley wasn't sure _she_ would want the torture to stop in that case either.

 **Author's note:**

 **Kamirun: Cameron**

 **So yeah, about Abby, all I have to say about her is, yeah, sure, when your kid's doing a good job and making sure things are taken care of your insecurities take over and you disregard Clarke's authority, claiming she's just a child.**

 **But when things go wrong and Clarke actually** _ **needs**_ **a support system? Abby's all "You're not my daughter anymore" "This is all on you." Bullshit. Abby sucks ass as a mom. Seriously, she thought her raising a kid was a good idea? It's called consistency, Abby, look it up. When I said that people in the Sky camp are toxic, I was including Abby. She's part of the problem. She's a joke of a parent. Clarke's practically an orphan.**

 **Romanticist Lele:** **Well, sure, a lot of that makes sense and is a good point. But Lexa still left the mountain. If Lexa really was serious about being a leader and being the leader that the tribes needed, she would have charged the enemy that had been a threat to her people for decades and decades. Instead she left like a coward. For that? There's a reason why I think the Grounders acted out of character third season. They should have at the very least been way more against the Commander for leaving the mountain. The Mountain Men have oppressed the Commander's people for way, way longer than the Sky people have ever been enemies of theirs.**

 **Lexa should be branded a traitor just for that, let alone how many Grounders should have thought of her as a coward. Even if we forget about the whole bone marrow thing, from a Grounder's point of view, she'd be seen as a coward for not going after her peoples' decades long enemy.**


	15. We're Warriors, not Cowards

**Author's note: My apologies for the lateness. Hopefully this long chapter makes up at least a little for it.**

 **Swtid77 : Sorry for the delay, and to answer a previous question you had about AnyaxClarke's ship name, I think I've heard it usually referred to as "Clanya." Sometimes "Anarke."**

 **So as I made clear in the previous chapter, Abby's not going to be treated well in the chapters when she's called out. Another thing I can't deal with when it comes to Abby, right so Bellboy can make a deal with an organization to kill Jaha so that he gets to be a guard on the dropship to be with his sister when she's sent to Earth, but Abby won't pull a few strings as a council member to do the same for Clarke?**

 **Right, because an underground organization like the one that wanted Jaha dead, using Bellboy as the weapon has so much more authority than an actual council member does. Abby, she wouldn't even try to pull strings and use her authority to get herself inside the dropship to be there for Clarke when Clarke was sent to Earth. Sounds to me like Abby's only interested in doing something for Clarke if it feels like it will benefit her in some way. Some mother she is. Like I said, Clarke is basically an orphan.**

 **I know that the title for this chapter is different from the last title even though it was a "part 1" too. That was intentional.**

 **Trigger warnings for mentions of violence, cutting torture and mentions of a past attempted rape.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 15: We're warriors, not cowards:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

After getting up, which passed smoothly despite waking up, surprised to find a sleeping Farron in her arms and Farron waking up to look at her worried, Clarke thought about what had happened. Endlessly. She felt Ontari's eyes on her as Clarke moved and kissed Farron's forehead gently, his short black hair tickling her lips. She gave a smile to the boy, promising him she was fine. She hadn't wanted to lie to Farron of all people. But what was the alternative? Telling him that a _Mountain Man_ was here in Farron's homeland would be like telling him that there was a monster under the bed that wanted to eat him and neither she, Ontari, nor any of the twenty-six would protect him from it.

Despite her guilt at lying to the young boy, Clarke had told him that everything was fine and sent him off to go to Linden, Lane and Blair so they could get food together. She and Ontari had been silent for a good long while when Clarke had started getting dressed for the day. She could feel Ontari's eyes on her back the whole time. Clarke didn't know what she hated the most. Herself for hurting Ontari, or Emerson for surviving, for hurting her and her people so much. She wasn't sure she could hate the queen. Not when it came to this matter at least. She hadn't made Emerson do anything. The queen hadn't even met Emerson till now. She could hate the queen for plenty of other things and certainly did, just not for this. The only thing the queen was guilty of when it came to this issue was bringing Emerson here. And even without the threat against her people, Clarke wasn't sure she wouldn't have immediately attacked Emerson on sight, without the queen's prompting.

Clarke wanted to face Ontari that morning, but couldn't turn around. Couldn't face the young woman who had been nothing but wonderful to her and had helped her so much since Clarke had been brought here. All Clarke could give Ontari last night was the ugliest version of herself. Clarke was starting to wonder if that was who she really was. Clarke, unable to keep these horrid thoughts at bay and stay in the room with Ontari who she just knew wanted to speak with her, had left going down the hall fast to get to her training.

She still thought about what happened. During her training sessions she had been so distracted, she had let her guard down. The end result was getting hit hard in the stomach with a small, wooden club by one of the guards who instantly looked like he was afraid of being punished for his act, till he apparently recalled who it was that he was sparring with and calmed down, as Wanheda was known to be merciful with her sparring partners, even when they had on occasion, landed a blow.

Her sparring partner, Walko, looked at her apologetically. She just smiled at him and told him to continue and that she was fine. Walko nodded and nervously proceeded to swing his wooden club around. Clarke dodged the next few swings, crouching down and hitting her right leg out, knocking Walko's feet out from him. Walko gasped next to her, swooping down backwards onto his rear, yelping. Clarke whirled around, sword in hand, the blade going to his throat. Walko's hands went up in surrender, dark eyes wide. The tip of the blade just touched Walko's Adam's apple. The young man swallowed. Clarke's eyes narrowed, Emerson's hateful stare boring into her still fresh in her memory.

She forced herself to pull the sword from Walko's throat. Walko had nothing to do with Emerson being here. Even if he had been one of the people that had brought Emerson, that was just because his life or someone Walko knew was being threatened. He had little choice like many people in the Azgeda. Clarke said quietly to Walko in Azgedasleng, "I'm sorry, Walko. I should have pulled the sword away sooner. I've just been tense." Walko nodded. "It's alright, Klark. I know you'd never kill me unless you had a good reason." Clarke chuckled, feeling relieved and slightly uneasy at the nonchalant reaction Grounders had when it came to death.

The notion amongst many Grounders, Trikru and Azgeda alike was that if they died for the greater good of a tribe, then the leader who made that decision was justified in their decisions.

It was why Clarke never heard any outrage from the Azgeda about Ton DC when she told some of the Azgeda warriors about it. Why be angry or vengeful when in the end, not alerting anyone would help them in the long run by keeping it secret that there was someone in the mountain? Even if the plan had been for naught as the Commander had betrayed Clarke and the prisoners that had been in the mountain had been released so that plan had been futile in the end. But the Azgeda warriors understood that what was done was done and it was something that had to be done for the good of all.

Clarke reached her hand out and helped Walko up. Walko was a good warrior. His reaction to her statement hadn't surprised her. Many Azgeda warriors had long since gotten used to Clarke speaking to them as if she was their friend. Not that any of them were complaining. The less tense they were around Wanheda the better. She treated them like friends, not soldiers to be used. It had taken a few months for them to feel relaxed around her, but many of them had come around.

Walko had been amongst the first. The black-haired Walko said, peering at Clarke as she stepped away from him, "Klark, you have been quiet and appear unwell for a few days. Is there something wrong?" Clarke shook her head, frowning. Walko was not one of the warriors who had brought Emerson in. He had no idea. Telling him would just cause disturbance. "It's fine." She lied, not even sure she could feel sad enough about lying to him, that was how numb she was. "You should go back to your post. I'm going to get food. See you later, Walko." Walko bowed, appearing a little worried that his general was fighting this early without eating anything but said nothing on it. He had eaten before, Clarke had seen that. And she had made no effort to get her own food. He left soon and the small training ground and Clarke was about to leave it as well, when she heard a knock against one of the wooden fence posts, making her whirl around.

Ontari was stepping down the steps to the courtyard, her balled up right fist opening up and reaching to the two vertical, long breads under her left arm, taking one in each hand and brought them over, mouth a line as she offered the food to Clarke.

"I didn't see you at breakfast. Thinking about what happened last night?" Ontari asked, letting Clarke take both meat filled rolls. Clarke sighed, nodding, ignoring the unease of having Ontari near her again after the events of last night. "Can you blame me? Yes." Clarke backed up and sat down on one of the wooden ledges against the wall. Clarke was covered in furs so she wouldn't be that cold, but Ontari couldn't help the chuckle that left her mouth at the sight. "We're outdoors, Klark. It's cold out. Your rear will be cold eventually."

Clarke snorted, breaking one of the loaves apart, revealing the heavy, red meat of the birds that had been sacrificed for this loaf inside. "Don't care. I welcome any pain after last night." She practically felt Ontari stiffen up next to her. "I'm sure you didn't mean to say that." Ontari said quietly, her voice giving away nothing. "But I'm glad you did." When she received Clarke's startled, confused look, Ontari said sadly, "If you said this then it means that you're going to be honest with me about how last night hurt you." Clarke looked at Ontari and hesitated. Ontari's dark eyebrows were raised and she looked at Clarke expectantly.

Clarke sighed, nodding, giving a tiny laugh. "I guess that makes sense." She exhaled deeply. "I'm not even sure I mentally _am_ ready to talk about it. But not talking about it is going to eat at both of us, isn't it?" She looked at Ontari and the black-haired woman nodded. Clarke knew Ontari knew what "eat at" meant. Clarke had explained it before during one of Casey's "episodes" when she had had flashbacks to a man she had killed. Clarke looked away from Ontari, glancing around the small corner of the courtyard and began speaking softly, only taking breaks to take a few bites out of the meat bread pieces. "Did you hear what I said to Emerson after I cut him? Did you hear it? I used the death of his family against him. I taunted him about his brother, wife and daughters." Clarke swallowed a piece of her food, a heavy pain in her chest as she remembered the agonized rage in Emerson's eyes, staring at her hatefully in the prison cell. "After what happened in the mountain?" Clarke couldn't bear to look at Ontari when the words left her mouth. "I looked up the names of the children that had died. I wanted to know the names of all the innocents whose deaths I was responsible for." Clarke took a breath, feeling like she had been hit over and over again with blades. Each child she had ever killed a blade to the chest. Each child in the mountain and in each village condemning her.

"I know the names of Emerson's children. Nina and Harriet Emerson. His little brother, Jimmy was young too. He was only approaching his thirteenth birthday when I killed him." Clarke's eyes closed and her face tightened in intense pain, remembering. "And last night? Last night I used Emerson's innocent daughters and brother against him. To hurt him." Clarke sucked in a breath, eyes opening and only then did she look at Ontari. "You said that Emerson wanted me to be as ugly on the inside as he was. But it's too late for that. My soul's already black and empty."

Ontari shook her head, mouth a deep line as she stepped closer to the slim, wooden ledge Clarke was perched on. "Not black and empty. Hurt. Scarred. War-torn. Far from empty. Not black. Nothing about you is ugly. Just scarred. And you might have chosen to torture Emerson last night, and to raid those villages. And to pull the lever in the mountain. But all of them were for one reason. You were protecting your people. The ones to blame were never you. The Mountain Men put you in that situation. The Commander refused you help." Ontari looked around the courtyard corner to make sure no one was around before lowering herself to be eye level with Clarke, meeting the startled blonde's eyes as she spoke her next words in a quiet voice. "The queen is the one that's threatening the twenty-six and everyone you care about. She's the one to blame for all the villages you've been involved in raiding and in all of the tortures you've taken part in. You were the hand. She was the head. It wasn't your fault."

Clarke felt her chest tighten and she looked at Ontari without any small amount of disbelief. "What the hell did I do to deserve you, Ontari?" She asked, giving a small laugh. Ontari smiled, knowing that when Klark said "the hell," she wasn't talking about the Azgeda god of death, "Hel," the daughter of the trickster, Loki and the giantess Angrboda. It was a Sky person saying. She strode up a little and sat down on the ledge next to Klark, meeting the other's gaze. "You didn't do anything. You were just you. That's all it took."

Clarke chuckled weakly, head pressing against Ontari's cheek. "That has to be one of the corniest things I've heard you say, ever, since we've known each other, but thank you." She glanced at Ontari and saw the confusion cross the other woman's face and she chuckled again. Obviously "corniest" wasn't one of the things Ontari had learned as a sky person phrase yet. "I'm going to assume that word has nothing to do with corn." Ontari said quietly, lifting her eyebrows. Clarke chuckled again, kissing Ontari's throat lovingly.

 **(Page break)**

Finley had known that she would need to move fast. She had first gotten Martin to watch Mathias for her during the early morning. Jarra promised she'd watch Mathias when Martin could not. After a long passionate kiss that would unfortunately have to substitute for the sex both of them wanted, she and Jarra separated and Jarra went to join Martin. She had brought him his food and then sent him on his way, telling him she'd tell him what was going on later. She had then gone to Glenn's room, getting him up and telling him to come with her. The groggy, brown-haired and brown-bearded boy had stared at her for a few seconds before it obviously clicked that they were about to talk about what Finley had informed him of last night. His eyes had bolted open wide and he had told her to leave so he could get dressed. Finley had nodded and left the room. It was common for warriors to just rest in the clothing they walked around in, so they could get ready for battle if anything happened in the night. But they all, like Glenn had their extra clothing for the next day. At least, depending on who was high up in the ranks. Finley stepped out of the room and waited for Glenn to be done.

When she didn't hear any progress besides some shuffling of clothing, she opened the door averting her gaze. She so did not want to see any _intimate_ body part of her brother. She heard Glenn's distaste for her action a second later, bringing a smirk to the girl's lips, "Finley! Wait till I'm done. For goodness sake." Finley chuckled. "Sorry, Glenn. But we need to go. Hurry it up, Goldberg." She peeked back and saw thankfully that Glenn was all dressed. She watched as he grabbed everything that he needed from his room. His Jewish star, his Yarmulke, his daggers and his boots and belt for his daggers eventually.

Finley found it amusing that Glenn's most personal items besides his blades were his religious items, since it was kind of imperative that every person of importance at all in the Azgeda be armed before anything else. But Finley knew how ingrained Glenn's faith was in her brother's life. She wouldn't mock it even if their survival was supposed to come first and the Azgeda had tried to ingrain that particular recollection in their instincts every second of their time here during training.

Glenn had pulled on his Jewish star, adjusted his yarmulke on his head, clipping the headpiece on his head. He then grabbed his knives and scooped up his leather belt and wrapped it around his waist, tying and buckling it, putting the knives into the sheathes. He leaned down and grabbed his grey fur and leather boots, pulling them on. He grabbed his furs from where they hung on the hooks on the wall, placing them over himself. "Are some of the others outside?" Glenn asked, glancing at Finley. She nodded. "Some of them. I think Jesse, David and Casey are practicing together. Paul's still in the kitchen." Glenn snorted. "As if he'd be anywhere else." Finley smirked. "Lorena, Bobbi, Parker and Simone are looking after weapons. Cody, Cameron, Mario and Kristin are training some of the younger kids. Blair and West are going to eat together. I think Linden, Lane and Farron were with them, but West and Blair should still be eating. Linden and Lane are out training. Farron's joining them. And Christopher, Sabine and Avery are out hunting."

Finley added quietly, "Martin and Jarra are watching Mathias."

Glenn cocked his eyebrow at Finley. "And the others?" Finley shrugged, frowning. "Edmund, Dallas and Beryl are seeing to the people at the medical center. I doubt they'd want to be interrupted." Glenn nodded, aware that Rora was in the healing center teding to those that were sick. One of Mario's "sort of girlfriends," Payna was there too. Finley hesitated. "But we need to speak to them. Bailey, Hodge and Frank are out patrolling. Kozarr and Benik are with them. They'll be back later on today. We'll have to wait to tell the three of them. Cause you know, we don't know where they are."

Glenn furrowed his eyebrows at Finley. "And you know where Christopher, Avery and Sabine are?" Finley nodded. "I listened in. I knew if I stopped them from going out, it would look suspicious. We're already about to do something that's suspicious enough. But we need to tell as many of them as we can without looking suspicious." Finley looked at Glenn's door to make sure no one had heard. She slipped out and peered down the hall, seeing no one. She slipped back in and went back over to Glenn who grabbed his weapons from the floor, slinging them over his shoulders. "We need to tell as many of them as we can, but we have to do this slowly and carefully. We'll tell a bunch of them today and see if they can tell the others."

Glenn nodded. He added, glaring at Finley, "Don't forget, you owe me an explanation about what's going on. It isn't just about Emerson, is it?" Finley nodded. "You're right. It's not. That's one of the reasons why we need a lot of the others. There's a secluded room in the medical center. I asked Edmund, Dallas and Beryl to clear out that room because that's the room we're going to use."

Glenn looked surprised before he smirked. "I can just imagine how happy Edmund would be with that arrangement." Finley smirked back. Edmund was just as obsessive about the medical center being looked after as Paul was about his space in the kitchen. Though in Paul's case, his "space" in the kitchen had basically become the entire kitchen. Paul's ability to cook and his ability to look after the seasonings were practically be revered by now. It was one of the reasons that most people stayed out of Paul's way in the kitchen. Also because when Paul blew his top about when something went wrong in the kitchen because of someone else and Paul resembled a furious grizzly bear. Even the most experienced, strong and well-trained warriors bolted out of the kitchen when Paul got pissed.

Granted, it was one of the few times Paul in fact _did_ get pissed about anything, outside of something to happening to any of his family.

When she had informed Edmund on the other hand that she and the others wanted to use one of the medical center to speak privately to Clarke and Ontari, the young boy had looked worried and aggravated at the most, but he had nodded. He had recognized the dire look in his sister's eyes. He and Beryl would have that room ready soon. Glenn and Finley were soon leaving the room. They agreed on who they were going to get first. It would be like poking an angry bear in his cave, but Paul would have to be first. The kitchens were the closest and the food was already done. It would only be an hour before it would be put out over the tables.

The two made their way down the stairs and into the main halls, greeting the servants and warriors in Azgedasleng as they were greeted with an amount of respect four months ago they had seen as startling, but had gotten used to by now. They quickly got to the kitchen and went to the back, moving past the many servants who looked between shocked, confused to terrified of why two of the generals that personally served Wanheda were here, but they averted their eyes and bowed their heads and said nothing, moving away quickly.

It might have been a terrible thing to be feared as much as they were and Finley knew that Glenn hated it. Finley did too to a certain extent. But unfortunately, around here, fear was the currency of the Azgeda people. At least of this group of people in this territory. So she and the others would have to abuse it as much as they could if they wanted to see their goals through.

The narrow area of the kitchen was where Paul would be sitting. Both Finley and Glenn knew that well. It was the closest to the stove and closest to the shelves of spices and salt bags. It was his own private little corner that he had earned to himself with his ability to cook and his prowess in battle. No one questioned him when it came to being in the kitchen or when it came to training. He might not have had the "general" privileges that Glenn, Finley, Bailey, and some of the others were. But he was a war hero like Finley and Glenn were. So if he wanted to spend most of his time looking after the kitchen, for the most part, no one was going to question that by this point.

When they turned the next corner, they found Paul up against the wall, leaning back slightly on his wooden stool, right leg tapping against the round, black, iron stove, opened book between his hands, eyes glued to the pages. Finley and Glenn didn't need to ask Paul what kind of book it was that he was reading. Paul had a passion for mystery novels. So naturally, once Paul had caught wind that there was a small, albeit neglected library in the main military Azgeda area here, he had inspected it as soon as he got permission. He had come back, with the queen's permission, thanks to Clarke with multiple mystery novels stacked up in his arms and carrying them off to his bedroom. That had earned him a few teasing remarks from Finley, David, Mario and Kristin till Clarke, Blair and Glenn told them to shut it.

Lining the wooden shelves along the walls to the right of the stoves were a few of Paul's books, most of them with pieces of folded paper tucked between the pages, to mark where Paul had left off. The rest of his books were stashed away in his room. Anyone who stepped into his room would swear that he had more books in his room than actual space to sleep or to put his weapons. Finley and Glenn got close to their brother. Finley announced themselves, knowing that Paul was too engrossed in his reading to be aware of two people approaching.

"Stack, get off your ass!" Finley barked, making Paul jump and almost flinging his book from his hands, his dark blue eyes wide. When he caught the dark red and yellow book in his hands, he glared at Finley. "The hell, Walsh?" He snapped; light brown bearded face marred by a frown. "What was that all about?"

"Oh nothing, just wanted to give you a scare." Finley gave Paul a dry look. "I'm trying to speak to you, moron. Get off your rear and come with the two of us. We need to have a meeting." Paul's right eye squinted as it did when he didn't understand something. "A meeting?" He echoed. "What for?" Finley rolled her eyes. "That's why we're having a meeting, dumbass. Let's go." Paul scowled at her and turned to Glenn in question. The other boy nodded, telling Paul that this was important. Paul sighed, pulling himself off the stool and grabbed a slip of brown paper off the counter next to the stovetop. He inserted it between the pages and put the book down on the stool when he got up.

"What is this all about, Finley?" Paul demanded, rolling his eyes as he got up, grabbing his white and grey furs from the hooks behind him. Because of the cooking going on, there was no need for the furs until Paul eventually left. He pulled the furs onto his person as he faced the other two. Finley shook her head. "Can't tell you yet. It's about Clarke. I'll tell you when we get to the healing center. Come on." At Paul's befuddled expression, Finley sighed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him along, causing him to gasp as they moved.

Next stop, the grounds where Cody, Cameron, Kristin and Mario were training the kids. When they dropped in, Cody was circling the area, observing how the kids were doing with their techniques. Kristin and Mario were barking orders and Cameron was showing a boy how to properly punch. Their session was interrupted with those that came in. Finley, Glenn and Paul instantly received startled looks from the training orphans and their four teenage teachers. The secluded outdoor training area was risky for Finley, Glenn and Paul to be summoning the other four to come with them, since there were no walls between them and any onlookers, but what they were about to discuss had nothing to do with any rebellion. About this at least, it was more or less safe for people to see and hear them talking, as long as they got to the medical center room eventually.

"What are you guys doing here?" Mario said, cocking his black eyebrows up at his siblings. "Don't _you_ have somewhere to be, Walsh?" Mario eyed Finley. By that, they all knew that he meant Finley was supposed to be shadowing Mathias. He then looked at Glenn and Paul. "And the two of you? Glenn, aren't you supposed to be practicing fighting with Blair? And Paul, don't you have a few people you need to be terrorizing out of the kitchen?" The orphans around Mario burst out giggling Finley smirked while Glenn, Cody and Kristin chuckled. Paul rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Finley says we need to come with her. She won't tell me about what. But it's important." Paul's firm words caught Mario's attention and he looked at Finley in question. The girl nodded, her smirk dropped now.

Mario nodded and looked at the others. Kristin, Cameron and Cody all looked over at Finley all seeming to make the same decision. Cody turned her head to where Flint was leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching them. Cody barked in Azgedasleng, "Flynt! Get your ass over here! Train these children. Don't harm them, don't let anyone else harm them and train them like you're supposed to. Tell anyone that asks that we went to speak with our sister and brothers. I'll have one of your hands in combat if you go against me." Cody's dark brown skin was flushed a slight pink with how cold it was, along with her forced anger. Flecks of snow were in her smooth, black hair and her dark eyes were commanding as she regarded the approaching Flint. It was mostly for show.

A show for whoever might be watching or listening. For the children who knew to cover their tracks when they were having meetings and would know to assert themselves when it came down to it. For Flint who was also deep in this rebellion and if he did not pretend to be a good little soldier, would be found out and skinned alive. Flint nodded and came forward. Cody, Cameron, Kristin and Mario moved away from the children and went over to their sister and brothers. Flint cleared his throat roughly.

"Attention to me now, children." Flint ordered in Azgeda language as the orphans looked at Flint then. "Begin!"

Mario, Cameron, Cody and Kristin walked over to Finley, Glenn and Paul. "Lead on, Finley." Cameron said to the other. Finley nodded. The seven warriors quickly walked out of the secluded training square, going to the main food hall where Finley knew that West would still be there. Maybe Blair would be there too. Hopefully. They reached the hall where the long wooden tables were strewn along the floor, stuffed with leftover food. Finley found West almost immediately. The girl was ripping pieces of meat off of a hunk of flesh that West had sliced from a hock of oxen. The hunk of meat was balanced on the girl's knife's hunting blade.

Finley smirked. She knew personally that West did not use that particular knife for battle, so the knife wasn't coated with any human blood, but still, how unhygienic could you get? Well, to be fair, it was the Azgeda. So the answer was pretty damn unhygienic. Finley told the others to stay near the door. She went quickly over to West, patting the other girl's arm. West turned to look at her, bright blue eyes wide, startled. Finley then looked to where Blair was eating, also startled by Finley's appearance. The people that were bustling around barely took notice since today was fairly busy. The markets were more successful than before so fewer people had time to stand and stare at anyone.

"Are Farron, Linden or Lane here?" Finley asked, slightly worried about them. Blair shook her head. "No. The three of them went to their classes." Finley nodded, relieved. Even though Farron and Linden and Lane were technically involved in this, given their age, Finley had a feeling that Clarke wouldn't appreciate them being in on this talk. "Right," Finley said, happy to see that Blair was here too. "You two, we need to talk. Come with us now." West paused in her chewing and Blair cautiously cut at another piece of meat. "Now?" West mumbled, still chewing.

Finley glowered. "Yes, now. Duh. No, I mean in a year. Yes, now. Both of you, off your asses." West glanced behind Finley, noticing a small group at the door. When she took note of who specifically was there, she almost instantly got up from her seat. "Right." She grumbled, gulping down the rest of her food. She turned to Blair. "Let's go."

The next few minutes passed by of the nine going to the weaponry stronghold, where Lorena, Bobbi, Parker and Simone were shining the weapons. Well, Bobbi and Lorena were looking after the weapons. Simone and Parker were naturally off up against a wall, Simone deep kissing Parker with her arms around the shorter, brown-haired girl. Finley yelled out for their attention, making the pale, brown-haired, blue eyed Lorena and the dark-skinned, black-haired, brown-eyed Bobbi nearly leap up from the benches they were sitting on at the tone they heard.

As Finley suspected when she looked to the right, Parker and Simone were off sucking face. She heard a snort next to her from Mario. "Okay, seriously? Even I'm not that needy with Zela, Payna, Muara and Tonia. Guys, we get it, you two always want to fuck each other." Simone and Parker who had been startled out of their passionate bliss by Mario's loud voice, scowled at the boy. Parker leaned down and grabbed a dirty cloth that she had been using to shine one of the weapons and chucked it with all her might at Mario. He snickered and dodged it, the cloth falling to Finley's feet. Kristin remarked, looking at the two, "I see the two of you are working very, very hard on looking after the weapons."

Parker flipped Kristin the middle finger and shook her head, smirking. "Go shove it, Blue. What the heck are you guys doing here anyway?" Simone's dark blue eyes flashed in alarm. "Is something wrong?" She asked. Finley shook her head. "Not exactly in the usual sense. We'll tell you later. But the four of you should come with us." Lorena instantly got up from where she was sitting. After a few moments hesitation, Bobbi did the same, putting her weapons away. She and Lorena faced the others. Simone and Parker slowly parted, though their hands were still clasped together.

Finley heard Mario and Kristin snort but ignored them. She gestured for the four warriors to come with her and started for the door, only checking behind her to see if Simone, Parker, Bobbi and Lorena were following them once they were outside.

They reached the part of the courtyard next to the medical center where David, Jesse and Casey were practicing. By the time they reached the area, David was flat on his back, groaning and Jesse was whirling around, her right leg kicked out as she landed on her left one, her right leg soon lowering as she came to a standstill. She smirked down at David, sweat clinging to her dark-skinned brow. Casey sided up to where David lay, reaching out and giving the boy a hand. David grabbed Casey's hand and Casey pulled him up. Casey looked to the right and saw the group of people that were assembling around the small part of the courtyard. She blinked, startled. "Guys, what are you doing here?" She asked.

Mario awkwardly laughed, making David and Jesse turn to him and the others, "I wish I knew. Finley's not telling us." Jesse, David and Casey all turned their attentions on Finley. Finley sighed, shrugging. "It's a long story. But I'll explain it when we have everyone at the medical center. The three of you need to come with us for now. I think Christopher, Sabine and Avery will be back in a few minutes. They left real early. So they should be back by now. We all need to head over to the center. We're not in trouble. I'll explain when we get there. Promise."

Casey and Jesse looked at each other, meeting each other's gaze and speaking to each other in that silent way that they always did. They eventually nodded, even though there was plenty of confusion in their eyes. David looked at them and rolled his eyes and walked over. "Okay." He grumbled. "But if I lose a few pieces of skin in the process, I blame you guys completely."

There were grim chuckles around Finley. "Thanks for the reminder." Kristin said dryly. Finley snorted. "Let's go, guys." She gestured towards herself and soon David, Casey and Jesse were following them. Mario pointed to Casey and Jesse, glaring at Parker and Simone, "See, that's what we're talking about when it comes to restraint in passion." "Go fuck yourself." Parker snipped at Mario. Mario grinned wolfishly. "You know I don't need to do it myself certainly."

"Thanks for that reminder as well. I'm going to just love having my brain poked at with these images more than usual." Kristin grumbled as they moved through the village, earning plenty of gasps as people saw the Seconds of Wanheda trailing through the path, afraid that they might offend the warriors in some way. Others bowed their heads in respect for the twenty-six's deeds. Many saw war-heroes and generals in the group, not outsiders or servants of Wanheda. Many of them saw warriors of Azgeda.

Finley and the others reached the gate where true enough to Finley's estimation, Sabine, Avery and Christopher were arriving back into the village by the steel gates that were opening up. Behind them were other warriors carting in leather and bone made stretchers with the bodies of elk, muskoxen, pieces of bear and big cats strewn all over them. Sabine herself had two large, white, feathery animals by their throats. It wasn't hard to realize that what Sabine was dragging around by their throats were swans.

Sabine grinned as she and the others were inside, throwing both swans at the feet of the gathering villagers who were cheering. As soon as the swans landed, along with other tougher fleshed game like some of the bear parts were thrown down, the villagers descended like starving vultures. Contrary to the olden days of Britain, royalty did not feast on swans and the like here in the world of Grounders. Swans were too tough, so now they were considered gamey enough for "lowly villagers." The tenderer meats of animals like pigs, bears and oxen were for royalty and war heroes.

As Sabine, Christopher and Avery got close, Finley told the others to remain where they were and she got over to her sisters and brother. "Guys." She said to them quickly, earning their attention. "I need you three to come with me." She said in a quieter voice, "It's about Clarke." As soon as they heard that, all three Christopher, Avery and Sabine turned their full attention on Finley, then the group of people behind them. Avery looked over at the other hunters who were soaking up the attention of the villagers' praises and nodded. "Alright. While those guys are distracted. Let's go."

Christopher eyed Finley as the three of them followed the girl, his gaze turning to David and David could only offer a shrug. Sabine reached her sisters and looked from Lorena to her twin, Simone. "What's going on, you two?" "I have no idea." Simone answered, giving her sister a sheepish look. "Your guess is as good as mine is." Lorena shrugged too. "We'll just have to wait." The youngest of the three sisters said. Sabine snorted, giving away just how much she was looking forward to that. Finley led the others in the direction of the medical center and paused when they were a couple of feet past the fortress of the queen. Finley then turned to West and met the confused girl's eyes, what little of West's face that could be seen between her many layers over her face was now red from the cold. "West, this is where you come in." Finley grinned, earning more confusion from her friend and sister.

"We need someone smart enough to be careful when speaking. We need to get Clarke and Ontari into the medical center." West blinked, stunned. "I'm guessing that means you, buddy." Mario said, looking at West shrugging when the shorthaired girl looked at him. "Hey, don't ask me. I'm just as lost as you are about what the hell is happening here. But I'm guessing the sooner we get Clarke and Ontari alone, we'll start getting answers. So…hop to it."

West scowled at the smirking Mario, then looked at Finley in question. Finley nodded. "Yeah. I don't like this either. But we need to speak with them. It's really important. Bailey, Frank and Hodge unfortunately aren't getting back from patrolling till a couple of hours from now and we need to do this sooner rather than later. We can explain this to them then. And Martin is busy." They all knew with what. Watching Mathias, like Jarra was. Finley added, "We'll tell him later. But right now, West, I need you to go into the fortress with us and when we find Clarke and Ontari, I need you to speak for us."

West frowned deeply, giving away her confusion. "Alright." She said. "But there had better be an explanation for all of this by the end." Finley nodded. "There's one. You won't like it. But there's one." West shrugged. "Well, it's to be expected that I won't like it if it's this bad. Let's go then. Onwards into whatever is going on. I just love going into things blind." West glowered at Finley who waved her hand. Almost all of their faces were covered with cloths to protect them from the cold, but their eyes, which were stinging from the said cold could be made out and so could the aggravation in some of them.

They made their way over to the fortress, entering, making a beeline through the door, two at a time. Finley made sure that West was of the first to go in. The last people to spill in were David and Sabine. They made their way through the other main rooms, earning bows from servants and guards, plus as to be expected, confused stares. Finley ignored them all and whispered to Blair, "Were either Ontari or Clarke here this morning?" Blair nodded. "Ontari was. She grabbed some of the meat bread to bring to Clarke. I think I heard from Linden that Clarke was training with Walko this morning."

Finley nodded and started walking, checking over her shoulders every now and then to make sure everyone was following. And to make sure that others that weren't supposed to be trailing after them weren't following either.

They reached the different line of smaller courtyards, divided up by different thick, stone walls. Walking along the wooden walkway, and checking the different courtyards, they heard shuffling around and panting and peered into one of the last corners outside for training. Kristin grumbled, "I can't believe they're training outside in this weather." Finley stared at Kristin as she moved. "You, Mario, Cody and Cameron were training outside in this weather. So were David, Casey and Jesse." "Yeah," Kristin grumbled again, "That's the point. It's nuts to make anyone practice in this kind of cold. At least give us a bunch of fur sleeping bags to hop around in."

Cody snorted, grinning. "Not that I don't think you'd look great in a giant sack, but I think you'd have a hard time kicking and hitting in that. We all would." Kristin, smirked and the got to the near end square that made up the vast doorway to the courtyard, finding Clarke swinging a kick at Ontari, who blocked the kick easily with one arm, grabbing Clarke's ankle and twisting it. Clarke growled a little, hopping back on her other leg, twisting her ankle and pulling it out of Ontari's grasp. Clarke swung herself back, only then spotting the gathering members of the twenty-six at the door.

When she looked at them, Ontari lowered her arms, looking at where Clarke was looking.

"What are you guys doing here?" Clarke asked, red faced and panting, the furs back from her face, but it probably not mattering much thanks to all her moving around. Finley looked at West and the shorthaired girl and shrugged. "Well, West, if we're in this space without other people watching, I think we don't have to worry about people hearing anyone speaking rudely." At West's confused look, understanding that she was only needed to uphold a "respectful act," watched as Finley went down the steps. Finley faced the two warriors on the stone floor of the courtyard. "Ontari, we need to speak with you and Clarke, if that's alright. I can't tell either of you what it's about here, but it's important. Really important. We need a secluded place to tell you." Clarke looked at Ontari and both of them stared at Finley. Finley sighed, looking around, making sure no one was nearby, and stepped closer towards Clarke.

Finley glanced around her and looked at Ontari who was inspecting her curiously, the furs also away from Ontari's face, and red faced from the cold and her workout. Finley leaned forward and whispered quietly to Clarke, "Glenn and I know about Emerson." Clarke's eyes widened and she kept her eyes on Finley, not moving for a second. She glanced at Ontari. The queen's heir was tense and looking sharply at Finley as if the longhaired girl had just said something offensive.

Clarke looked over at Glenn and saw how he stayed stiff and worried. That could have just been the cold, but if Finley's words were anything to go by…

Clarke turned to Ontari. "We'll go with you. Right, Ontari?" Ontari nodded, eyes narrowing at Finley. "Ain." She said, beginning to move. Finley breathed out in relief and turned on her heel walking, West, who hadn't heard what Finley just said, looked oblivious and followed. Clarke and Ontari followed too. Clarke got up next to Finley and whispered to her, "Where are we going?" Finley nodded. "To the medical center. I asked Edmund, Dallas and Beryl to clear a space out so we can all talk there. Unfortunately, not everyone can be here. Hodge, Frank and Bailey are out patrolling and Martin and Jarra are you know, busy." Clarke nodded, knowing where Martin and Jarra were. She had a lot of questions now. How had Finley found out? Had she heard when she was listening in on the dungeon to watch Mathias last night? And why did only Glenn know about Emerson as well if that was the case, but no one else here knew?

They left the main fortress and trudged out into the snow, the deep, white piles crunching with each step as they moved themselves, almost knee-deep into the piles as they moved towards the medical center.

They finally reached the grey, squat building and Ontari pushed the front doors open. They entered the front hall, everyone who saw Ontari gasped and backed away, most of them bowing and whispering "your majesty" to Ontari as they moved away. Ontari and Clarke were the first to step through, Clarke getting the exact same reaction, of the revered whisperings of "Wanheda." People gave them a wide berth. Once they were all inside, Cody clamped the doors shut and Finley searched around the structure. She turned to one of the startled healers, Defnek. "Defnek," She snapped, voice coated in authority, "Find Edmund, Rora, Beryl and Dallas. We need to speak with them. Bring them to the back room with all of us."

The frightened and confused Defnek shot his blue eyes to look at Ontari and Clarke and Ontari nodded. Clarke did a second later after thinking about it.

Defnek left the room, running down the hallway. Once he was gone, Finley walked past Ontari and Clarke, towards the back room, nodding to the thick door. Finley reached the doors and pushed them. A low creaking of the doors told them of its protest, but Finley just pushed more and got the doors open. When She got inside, Clarke, Ontari and the others following her, Finley checked all the spaces where there might be someone watching and then checked the places that were heated up to keep the room warm.

There was no one in this room, save for all of them. And the torches were all lit. The fireplace was alive with roaring flames. And there were stone pedestals with stone bowls where burning coals crackled. They were good to go. Finley turned to the others, watching as Mario and Kristin closed the doors behind them. When both teenagers turned and walked up, standing alongside the others, Finley gestured for Glenn to come over to her. Glenn sighed and went over, standing next to her, looking at the others. "Alright," Finley said, "I'm sure I could give some funny remark about why you're all wondering why I've gathered you all here. But there's something really important all of you should know about. Clarke and Ontari know what it is."

Clarke and Ontari met some of the other kids' eyes and watched all of their concern. Avery pulled off the furs and the snarling animal mask from her face, letting her dark hair down as she looked at them. Parker, Cody, Mario, Kristin, Simone and all the others removed their furs from their faces as well. They all looked at Clarke and Ontari with uncertainty, waiting for the information to be divulged to them. Clarke's lower jaw clenched up and her posture became tight, as if she was in pain. "Clarke," Finley said sadly, "If you don't tell them, I will. You shouldn't have to deal with this on your own. Glenn and I know already. We're trying to help. Even if you don't believe that. We are."

Clarke shot a look at Finley and the dark-haired warrior felt like she had been slapped at the accusation in Clarke's eyes. Ontari turned her glare on Finley and the younger stiffened up. It hurt to see Clarke in pain. But if Ontari was the one doing the glaring, that probably meant that at least a pound of her flesh or one of her limbs would be in danger if she didn't get to the point soon. One of the things Finley admired about Ontari was what the Azgeda heir was willing to do for Clarke. She had been known for going above and beyond to protect Clarke, and the twenty-six for her. And being by Clarke's side when the blonde needed someone there for her during her trauma.

But Finley wasn't going to doubt for a second that if she ever did anything that might threaten Clarke's physical or mental wellbeing in any capacity, Ontari was going to ensure that Finley would lose a few very important parts of her body. Or at least get half her sets of bones broken. Finley nodded quickly. "You all should know." She looked at everyone lined up. "But this is really important. The queen, she's at it again. She's pushing Clarke to torture someone. This time she's given Clarke an incentive to enjoy herself." At the startled looks she received, Finley tried not to wince. She failed when she looked at Clarke and caught the blonde's pained look. She had wanted to tell the truth, but she knew Clarke hated what she had done, even if Emerson had deserved it.

"Emerson." Finley said at last. "The Mountain Man. He's here. He's in Azgeda. The queen brought him here to get Clarke to finally enjoy torturing people." When the words were out of Finley's mouth, the dark-haired girl immediately surveyed those around her to absorb the reactions. The most immediate reactions were those of shock. There was a lot of confusion too. Then there were the expected flashes of anger.

Finley fought a smirk. Good. She'd need some of that to make her point. Hopefully some of her siblings wanted to turn that anger on Emerson.

"Emerson?!" Cody demanded, stepping forward, deep brown eyes aflame with anger as she turned to Clarke. " _The_ Emerson? Carl Emerson? The guy that made the deal with the Commander? The guy that taunted you in Ton DC? He's here? How?" Ontari sighed, hand clasping over Clarke's hand, squeezing it. "My mother. She brought him here the same way she brought Klark. By boat. And a captive. He's been in the dungeons for a few days now. Maybe longer. I didn't find out about him until yesterday morning."

Slowly and surely, the angered expressions began to emerge. Finley had been expecting anger from Cody, Kristin, Mario, Parker, David and Christopher. But she wasn't expecting the level of anger that came off of Glenn and Blair. Or the hardening of West's blue eyes, the girl's gaze calling for Emerson's blood to be spilled from his body. Glenn said, voice icy, "We should give him exactly what he deserves for what he did to Clarke." He turned to the also startled Clarke, "We should take some of his blood for the things he put you through." Blair's face was hard and cold and her lips pulled back in a near snarl. "He hurt you, right, Clarke? He deserves to be killed. And slowly."

Finley smirked, finding it a bit sad. A few months ago, and _only_ a few months ago, they, none of them would have dreamed of acting like this. Not even her. And she had thrown everything she could into proving she was a worthy general to take some of the stress off of Clarke. Not even she would have thought of doing something like this months ago. But constant weeks of brutal training, whippings, being sent to slaughter dozens and dozens of villages would mess you up well and good. And they were going to protect and avenge their family, doing whatever they could to do just that, protect. Even if it was in the worst and inhuman way of doing it. The queen might have created her worse enemies by doing that to all of them, Clarke and Ontari, making them into monsters and killing machines, but she knew how to make ruthless soldiers. Finley would give the queen that at least.

Clarke stepped forward, blue eyes shining with her own anger, teeth clenching. "Blair, Glenn, no." She looked at the other kids. "None of you are doing anything to Emerson, alright? No one is touching Emerson, except for me." Cody's face became a snarl, like Blair's. And Parker threw at her with disbelief, "And why not? He made the deal with the Commander. He tried to kill the rest of the 100 and your mom. He tried to kill you, Monty and Bellamy in the control room!" Clarke winced, hand grasping Ontari's tighter at the memory Parker was poking at bluntly. Ontari scowled over at Parker. She would try to refrain from harming the younger warrior, but if Pakah kept pushing at Klark's pained memory, she would use force to make the brown-haired girl stop. If some of that force involved pain, then she would do it too. She would plead for Klark's forgiveness afterwards. But Klark's mental health came first.

"Pakah," Ontari cautioned, "Be warned." "No," Clarke defended quietly, "It's alright. She's right, of course. There's a lot he needs to pay for." She met the gazes of the kids who had come to mean so much to her these past months. "But this is not your concern. His transgressions were against _me._ And the sky people in the Trikru territory. You didn't come down until after the fact. This isn't your problem. "You don't need to hurt Emerson for me."

"No," Bobbi agreed, dark eyes aflame, "But we _want_ to. He should know that he doesn't get to hurt you without some payback. Clarke, there are plenty of people down here who have hurt _us_ and even though you didn't have to, you still made them pay horribly. And we were always grateful. Emerson hurt you. He needs to pay. Just as much as those Trikru bitches do." Clarke sighed, knowing that Bobbi meant Anya and Lexa. As much as she wished she could be stronger, she agreed with Bobbi. All three of them deserved to suffer for what happened at the mountain. Just as much as she herself deserved to suffer for all those deaths of those children within the mountain's depths.

She had been taught since she was young by her father, the most wonderful, loving adult on the Ark as far as she could remember, had taught her to love and forgive, but she knew the moment she had pulled that lever in the mountain that her father would be ashamed of her. It was good that he wasn't in this world anymore. He would have been disgusted with her if he had seen what she had become. And part of what she had become had been a revenging monster. Every moment when she thought about the Commander and Anya, what little affection and lingering love was now tainted by rage, fury and the need to inflict pain, make them hurt like she hurt.

And her twenty-six wanted to make Emerson hurt for what he had done to her.

She knew she probably shouldn't have felt the surge of warmth like she did at Bobbi's words. Considering the other girl intended to torture a man to death for her, it was more than likely a sign of further degradation of whatever morality Clarke had left, but Clarke nonetheless did feel that warmth.

"We're taking turns cutting the fucker up." Paul decided for all of them, making sure to keep his voice low, but the anger in his tone was unmistakable. Clarke glared at him. "Dammit, Paul, I know you guys want to make him suffer for me. But I don't want you to go through that. You don't want to feel the way I felt last night when I was cutting into Emerson's hand. I _enjoyed_ what I was doing to him." Clarke finished, feeling the disgust coat her throat. "This isn't like going into battle and suppressing your emotions and trying not to feel anything. I enjoyed every second of what I did to him. None of you want to feel that way, trust me. You don't...you don't want to know what kind of damage doing something like that will feel."

"But we already know what it's like." Kristin said quietly, eyes lowering to the stone floor, shrugging. "At least I do." Clarke turned her eyes to the other girl, watching Kristin curiously, eyes narrowing in confusion. The dark-skinned girl sighed, lifting her head and meeting Clarke's inquiring gaze. "I've been wanting to kill Pike and a lot of Azgeda people that wronged us for a while. I enjoyed hearing that Atano was dead. I've enjoyed killing the people that we've been offing here and there to gain control." Kristin gave a grimace. "I know we're supposed to be professional and that we need to put our feelings aside when we do stuff like this." Kristin's jaw tightened as her eyes darkened. "But…Deho, Rokren, Bayart, Wilkem, Ulo, Wynarlow, I enjoyed killing every last one of them." Kristin's lips stretched back in a threatening smile. "It felt good killing every single person who thought we were lower just because we were Sky people. And to make the people who tortured us in those first weeks before you came along and rescued us pay."

Clarke shivered before she could help it. She knew Ontari felt the tremor but the Ice Nation heir thankfully said nothing.

Clarke knew she should have probably expected this one coming too. The twenty-six, the first few weeks they had been here in the Azgeda before she had been brought here by the queen's warriors, had been the subject of much abuse and insults. She remembered the states they had been in when she had first tended to their injuries. Broken bones, broken ribs, bloody lips, some slashes across them, broken fingers. She had later discovered that Edmund had a piece of his leg cut away thanks to one of the dungeon masters, Tayko. When they had started their uprising and her warriors had begun killing those that supported Nia off, Clarke said that if Edmund wished, he could have Tayko. She had done in a way what Nia had done to her with Emerson, though Clarke had suspected that Edmund would not do it. She had been right.

Edmund had refused. He had said he'd kill the man in battle if he needed to, but not for revenge. That same night, Tayko had ended up dead, horribly. Clarke knew it hadn't been Edmund. He had been with her the whole night, tending to the injuries of those that had come back raiding a village south of them. She knew also it couldn't have been Finley, Bailey or Beryl, since they were in the medical center with her and Edmund at the time. But nonetheless, Tayko had ended up dead. The skin of his head had been peeled right off.

He had been tied to the horse stables by his wrists and ankles, and gagged with a filthy rag and the skin of his head had been taken right off.

Clarke had wondered at first who had done it and saw the way it had been done, hoping it wasn't any of her kids, but when she saw Casey walking away from the area, her hands, covered in blood and a cold smile across her face, she had known immediately. Clarke had kept quiet the whole time she watched Casey wash her hands off and throw the knife she had used to skin Tayko's head into a freezing river that was still rushing. She had only left when she was sure that Casey was walking away and wasn't seen. Only then did Clarke start walking away too. She had never spoken a word of that day. Not to anyone. Not even to Casey. She had known that Casey hadn't seen her. And no one discovered that it had been Casey.

Clarke grimaced, looking at Kristin still, then looked at the other fierce, snarling faces of her family. If her intention had been to keep them safe from being overtaken by the pleasure of revenge, it looked like she had been too late. Her kids already were bathed in the victims of thousands. It just happened they already knew what tasting revenge felt like. What killing in bloodlust was like.

She was too late to protect them from that.

The cold hand that squeezed around Clarke's heart whenever she knew that she had failed someone, clenched and clenched hard. She couldn't protect the 100 from being traumatized and almost being killed. And she couldn't protect these twenty-six from bathing their bodies in blood, becoming as ugly as the Ice queen herself. Was there anybody she could protect?

"Besides," Mario spoke up, making Clarke turn to him, startled at how guilt-ridden his green eyes looked, distracting her from her pain. "Some of us have enjoyed killing, even when the people we kill don't do anything wrong to us." Mario took a breath, a look of mild self-disgust crossing his face. "Do you remember that village in the East? A few feet from the border of what was the border between here and what used to be Sweden?" Clarke nodded furrowing her eyebrows, remembering the one Mario was talking about. The queen had sent a group of warriors, an army to a village on the edge of a small territory that was now called the "Wito lar gashner." It was Azgedasleng for "village of traitors." It was the leftover traitors, those that had defied the queen and had escaped and taken refuge. They didn't call themselves this name, naturally. But that was what the queen called them.

Amongst the army that had been sent to destroy that village, Hodge, Cody, Paul, Avery and Mario had been with them. Clarke wondered why Mario was bringing that up. She suddenly had a very bad feeling when she noticed Avery appearing tense and swallowing, glancing at Clarke nervously, as if something was about to be revealed that should not be.

Mario nodded and said quietly, "Well, I know personally, you don't just need to hate the person to enjoy their deaths. All those weeks being whipped and hit, seeing you taking punishments for us from these people…I was just so angry." Mario's haunted green eyes locked with Clarke's. "So when we raided that village, I didn't hold back. Not even for a second. I jumped off my horse, pulled out my sword and just started hacking away. Those people in that village…they did nothing to me. To us. It was all the queen's fault. But I loved every second I had to slash into them. I decapitated and stabbed as many as I could get to. I still remember how I felt when I hacked into that first woman." Mario's eyes shut and his face contorted in pain. "She screamed. She was in so much pain. Because of course she fucking was. How would she not with a big-ass sword slicing into her ribs? But I didn't care. I wanted someone else to hurt for once. I wanted to make someone feel as much pain as I experienced. I wanted the people in that village to suffer as much as we had.

"You can't keep us from feeling bloodlust and enjoying killing. We already have dropped off the wagon on that one." Mario's eyes opened and despite his attempt at bringing some humor into the matter, his green eyes were filled with sorrow. Clarke's jaw clenched, chest hurting. Damn the queen. Damn everything she had made these kids into. Her ambition and ruthlessness cost every last one of these children their innocence and humanity. And damn her for helping the queen, even if it was to ensure these kids' survival. She looked at Avery who was shifting awkwardly. "Avery?" Clarke asked, looking at the girl for what Avery knew.

Avery looked at Mario and mumbled, "Sorry." Mario shrugged, uncaring. Avery said, looking at Clarke, blue eyes pained. "When I was cutting at some villagers and kicking them down a hill, I saw Mario across from me, a few feet away. While he was cutting at villagers…he was laughing." She looked again at the solemn Mario. "I'm sorry, Mar." Mario nodded. "It's alright." He said quietly, almost deathly quiet like everyone else was. Clarke sucked in a breath, eyes closing. This world had made monsters of them all in some way or other. For Ontari and the twenty-six and mostly any Azgeda, it had been the queen, not to mention their very flawed and ruthless culture. For her it hadn't even been the queen. The queen had just made the finishing touches. No, she wasn't the queen's work. She was the work of her mother, Jaha, the Trikru, the Mountain Men, Anya and Lexa.

For her it had been her mother's choice to kill her father, to let Wells take the blame, and alienate her when she wasn't doing what her mother wanted. For her it had been Jaha murdering her father and sending her and the other 100 down to Earth and use them as guinea pigs only when it suited his needs. For her it had been the Trikru's ruthlessness. It had been Anya and Lexa's building up of her as a leader, only to not give her the allies she needed at last minute. And for the Mountain Men, it had been the deceit, the clearness that they would use her people and discard them as they saw fit. The queen had only given Clarke the tools she wanted her killing machine to have.

She opened her eyes and looked at the others, seeing how hesitant they were, now that she knew the truth. They were expecting her anger or disgust most likely. Like she had been expecting from them when she told them about the mountain and Ton DC.

But of course, they wouldn't get it. She nodded sadly, inching closer to Ontari who rested her forehead against her right shoulder. "I understand. I get why you did it. I do. But that's what I'm saying. Do any of you really want to go there again? Go to that place again by torturing Emerson and enjoying it? Is that really something you want?" "Clarke," Cameron laughed weakly, catching Clarke's attention, "where did you get the idea that this was about want? I mean, sure we want to do it. But it isn't just that. At least, I don't think." She looked around at the other twenty-six for confirmation, which she got immediately from Cody and Jesse.

"It isn't." Cody said darkly. "Don't get me wrong, plenty of us _want_ to. But it's more than that. He's a threat to you and so he's a threat to all of us. If he fucks with one of us, he fucks with all of us. We can't let people think that we'll let him get away with what he did to you. We need to mess him up for what he did." Jesse stepped forward, long, black hair loose from the now messy braids that she had tried to keep under control. "Emerson wronged you. Hurt you in a way that I don't think any of us can forgive. If anyone deserves to be tortured for the sole reason of revenge, it's him. And you don't have to make him suffer alone. We're all going to have a hand in it if we can help it. So he knows just how badly he screwed up when he hurt you."

Clarke sighed, wishing that there was another way. She didn't want any of these kids to bear the brunt of butchering people and relishing it. Just like she hadn't wanted any of them to go off into battle until the queen had first forced Glenn, Beryl, Cameron, Christopher and Parker to go on that mission months ago. She was the one that was supposed to bear all the responsibility. Not them.

"You shouldn't have to do this." Clarke said, glaring at the ground in frustration. "He doesn't even know any of you. And I'm the one he hurt. It's not your responsibility." She felt Ontari pull away from her and step back. She felt Ontari look at her and had the feeling the other young woman was having objections to what her entarg was saying. Clarke pushed out the words, Dante Wallace's words weighing on her mind. _I bear it so they don't have to._ Never in her life had she understood an enemy as well as she had understood Dante after she had pulled that lever in the mountain. "You shouldn't have to bear this. I will."

"And who says you have to bear it alone?" Parker asked, looking angered. "Your mom? The Commander? Anya? The queen? Or one of the 100? We're not as weak as they are, Clarke. We're not parasites." Clarke looked at Parker, startled, and glared before she could help it. "Don't say that." She snapped. "The 100 aren't weak. And they're not parasites." She heard a snort in front of her from Mario. "No? How much help did they give during the war between you guys and the Grounders in the Trikru territory? How much did they help in the mountain? Didn't they fall immediately into the Mountain Men's trap with some nice treatment? I mean, seriously, did no one teach them not to take candy from strangers? How much do they take and give nothing back?"

Clarke sighed, anger starting to fade. They were just trying to protect her. She had tried to build up the image of the 100 in the twenty-six's minds. She didn't want them to think badly of them. And Clarke knew the 100 were flawed, as was she. As were the twenty-six. There were foolish mistakes on the 100's parts that she might have forgiven and forgotten once that she certainly wouldn't now. But they were good people. And it wasn't like she hadn't made a huge mistake by trusting the Commander and Anya. She had made that clear to her seconds and family that the 100 were loyal and decent. But she knew well that these kids didn't have a very high opinion of the 100. She had heard them talk badly about the 100 before when they were sure she was out of earshot. But she tried to make it clear that the 100 were just scared kids like them.

Mario wasn't done yet though. "At least we had to be forced to our knees with the threat of death and torture to listen to the queen." He said coldly, "If the queen so much as gave the 100 a few blankets and some nice pieces of steak, they'd be bending over backwards for her. Hell, some of them probably would turn on you just because the queen would give them gold." Clarke half-glared at him. She wanted to still be angry at him. Sure, he was exaggerating and she knew that, but as much as she hated to say it, a part of her felt like some of what he said was right. Miller. Monty. Harper. Charlotte. Even Wells to a certain extent. They had fallen for Dante's peoples' tricks so easily. Wells only agreed to investigate the rest of the mountain with her because he believed in her. He wanted to believe that they were all safe now. But his words had been, "if you think there's something wrong, there's something wrong." So he and Clarke had looked through the mountain together and they had found the cages containing all the Grounders. And they had found Anya and broke her out of her cage together. But the others?

If she and Wells hadn't gotten out, there was a strong possibility that they all would have died in that mountain. And Miller and the others had been all for staying in the mountain. And so many of them had been ready to leave the camp when Anya's people had been attacking. The only people keeping them from fleeing the camp and getting killed had been Raven and Bellamy.

When push came to shove, she hated to say it but it at times it got hard for Clarke not to think that the 100 could be unreliable.

"The mountain," She defended, not wanting the twenty-six to think the 100 didn't care about her, "They just…the one hundred just wanted to believe that they were safe after almost being killed all the time. That was all." "And they didn't trust you." Ontari said next to Clarke, making her turn to the raven-haired heir, her startled eyes meeting Ontari's brown eyes full of conviction. "You were their leader. And they didn't trust you to make the right decision. Even though you saved them from Onya's army in the Trikru's territory. And you healed them whenever they were injured in the Trikru territory. And you still saved them in the mountain. How ungrateful and traitorous are these children back at your camp, Klark?"

Clarke winced. It hurt hearing the most important people in her life now saying things like that about the kids that she had given so much to protect. But it hurt much worse that a part of her knew that they were right. As much as she might want to defend the others in the Trikru territory, what else could she say? Bellamy had been the one to take all the wristbands off the other delinquents in hopes of making sure that the Ark never came down. All so he could save his own life. He had been willing to sacrifice millions, just to save his own life. It had been Bellamy who threw Raven's radio into the river, killing off at least 150 of the people from his own social class just so he wouldn't be punished for shooting Jaha. Finley stood in front of Clarke, seeming unaware of the blonde's thoughts. Clarke looked at Finley. She would never tell Finley what Bellamy had done. Only to her, Raven, Finn and Wells's knowledge, Bellamy had destroyed the radio. If anyone asked, especially Finley who had lost her mother to the sacrificing of those 150 people, she she would just tell them that the radio had broken as soon as Raven's pod crashed.

Jasper had been the one to open fire at the bridge when she had met with Anya and had ruined their chances of a possible peace treaty. It had been the other 100 that had almost instantly turned on her when the sickness sent through Murphy had reached her and some of the kids had tried to shoot her to escape. It had been the others who had been so ready to leave the camp when Anya and her group was attacking, most likely going to end up being picked off one by one till there was no one left. It had been Murphy who had killed Myles, Connor and almost killed Jasper and Bellamy. It had been Murphy who had paralyzed Raven below the waist. It had been Miller, Fox, Monty and the others that had so readily trusted the Mountain Men. It had been Jasper who killed fourteen people in his search for Monty and endangered the sky peoples' chances of having peace. Granted, it was a peace that was doomed from the start thanks to Lexa's decision at the mountain. But none of them could have predicted that.

The difference between the 100 and the twenty-six was a quite obvious one. _Exposure._

Apart from Clarke and Wells who had literally lived with the Commander and Anya in Polis for a time and Octavia who had known about Trikru culture since she first got into her relationship with Lincoln, the 100 and the other Ark people didn't know that much at all about Grounder culture. They didn't even seem to want to know.

But the twenty-six, given they were forced immediately into the roles of the warriors to serve the queen, had been exposed to far more of Grounder and Azgeda culture. They knew more tactics, more traditions, more language, more traditional jokes even than the 100 probably would ever know about the Trikru. The difference was that the twenty-six had been forced to become stronger.

And what was more, discipline. They all had been forced to be disciplined. Between their training to be warriors and the eventual secrecy between them in plotting to usurp the queen and her followers, the twenty-six had found that they _had_ to exhibit patience and control over themselves. This was again something that the 100 heavily lacked. They were a cohesive unit. Or at least a more cohesive unit than the 100 would be. They had been forced to have discipline and thrown into the line of combat whether they liked it or not. They knew what discipline was. The 100 on the other hand? Not so much. Sure, Clarke had been able to rely on Wells, Raven, Bellamy, Harper, Monty, Octavia, Finn and Lincoln. But the others? Miller? Jasper? Fox? Sterling? Her mother? The rest of the 100 that were so quick to fall under the Mountain Men's spell?

"You don't understand," Clarke said weakly, the pain of Ton DC now fresh in her memory. "I did a lot wrong too. Ton DC? Remember that? I left a bunch of people to die. What if it had been a few of you I left to die?" She glared at some of the twenty-six. She turned to Ontari, nodding to her. "What if I left _you, kran en segara?"_ She sneered out those words, watching as Ontari showed no emotions at this question. "I would not be angry. Or even disappointed." Ontari said quietly. "Because I know you'd do it to make sure that thousands would survive. And if you had to sacrifice a hundred for those thousands to survive, I would accept that." Clarke let out a small, weak laugh. "Sure. You say that _now."_ She looked at the twenty-six, almost accusingly. "Well, what about you guys? What if it had been a bunch of you that I left behind in Ton DC? What if I left some of _you_ to die?" The question didn't faze them as she thought it would. Glenn shrugged, "If you had left _me_ to die and saved the other twenty-five? I'd have been okay. That would be a sacrifice worth it. If you left me to die and saved two thousand villagers that you didn't even know, I'd be okay with that. I don't take your decisions lightly. I know that every one of those decisions are to protect someone. And if you had to sacrifice a few people to save many? I'd understand. I wouldn't be happy to die, obviously. But I'd understand." The series of vocal affirmations from the other members of the twenty-six felt both like a slap across the face and a bolt of shock for Clarke at the same time.

"Hell," Parker laughed, grinning, "I'd be okay with you leaving me to die if it meant that loads of villages were saved for the sole fact that it would piss the hell out of the queen." Clarke laughed, despite everything, smiling when she heard Ontari chuckle next to her along with Mario, Kristin, Cody, Casey, Simone, Lorena, Christopher, Blair, Finley, West and David's laughs. Leave it to these kids to be able to make light of the most grim situation.

"Ontari," Clarke said quietly, though she was speaking to everyone, still desperate a little bit to defend the 100, "The others, the 100..." She just couldn't find any defense. Time and time again, they had proven to be unreliable. But still she found her words, "They were just desperate. And scared." "And weak." Ontari said, nodding, her eyes not unsympathetic. But Clarke knew none of that sympathy was for her people back in the Trikru's territory. It was only for her. Ontari frowned as she stepped close to Clarke again and Clarke was struck with that sense that she usually got when she and Ontari were in a room together that they were the only ones there. Ontari's dark eyes never left Clarke's bright blue ones. "The 100 have been on this earth longer than the twenty-six. A year longer. Can you really say that they have been as trustworthy or willing to suffer with you as these brave and strong warriors have?"

It was only when Clarke heard the small intakes of breath that she was reminded that she and Ontari weren't alone in the room. She turned around and saw the startled expressions on her family's faces, mixed in with the anger. David and Christopher puffed their chests out, much to Clarke's amusement. Kristin, Cody and Mario were smirking at the praise. Avery, Bobbi and Simone blushed. Clarke glanced at Ontari and saw that this praise was not given lightly. She saw admiration in those brown depths.

"She's right." Lorena said, holding her head high, the cold resolve in those blue eyes reminding Clarke horribly of how much blood this poor girl barely approaching her fourteenth birthday had spilled to protect herself and her family. "We're warriors. Not cowards. Emerson has offended us by hurting you. He has hurt you. Our leader, our friend, our sister, mother to some of us even." Clarke was startled at that. She looked to the others at the last thing that Lorena had said. Blair, Casey, Cameron, Kristin, Mario, Cody and several others looked at her with some of the unyielding warmth that Farron showed her as soon as he saw her.

Clarke lowered her head, closing her eyes again, mind not able to deal with this. They shouldn't have to do this for her. None of them should. It was inhuman that they had become like this to survive and that this was now the norm for them. She breathed out heavily, lifting her head now and looking at the others. What stopped her heart were the smiles on her family's face. Cameron held her head high as Lorena had. "Many of our parents are dead. Thanks to Pike." Cameron spat the name out, scowling. "Even if they weren't, we sure as hell wouldn't leave you to this. He is your enemy. So he's ours."

Clarke nodded at last, resigned. Cameron's words were probably the last nail in the coffin for Emerson and for her refusal. Cameron had hardened in these past four months because she had to. She didn't trust any men outside of her brothers. And she distanced herself from any Azgeda who showed any sexual interest in her at all. What Ivarb had tried to do to her had understandably forced her to become a fortress. Cameron would show no mercy to any she deemed likely to hurt her family, and that meant that Emerson was good as tortured to death anyway. She knew there was nothing she could do. Even ordering them would not work. They would find a way of trying to interfere even if she told them not to. She lifted her head, pained gaze staying on them. "Alright." She said sadly, knowing there was no way around this. "If…if this is really want you guys want or feel like you need to do…" She added, thinking about the queen, "And how are we going to run this by the queen?"

Finley smirked, gesturing to Ontari, "That's where your entarg comes in. We were hoping she would be the one to ask the queen permission to let us start torturing Emerson with you. I'm not that crazy that I wouldn't at least try to get Ontari to speak for us and risk losing my tongue." Clarke looked at Ontari, withholding a laugh. Good to hear. Good to know that Finley was using her head in that area. Ontari glanced at Finley with interest and further admiration. She nodded. "Wise choice." She said as the other members of the twenty-six looked at Finley with surprise and eventually agreeing expressions, most of them bearing smirks.

She got a series of nods. "There's something else," Finley said, making Clarke turn to her and Finley had a calm, collected expression, eyes determined. Glenn was paying full attention to her. Finley said, nodding to Ontari, "She knows too. Nia told her when I was watching Mathias. I heard what Nia told her. About how she got ahold of Emerson in the first place." Clarke, startled, turned to face Ontari who was now tense. If her face was anything to go by, this was not something she wanted to share with Clarke.

"Ontari?" Clarke asked, "What is it?" After a moment of silence, Finley sighed, "Ontari, Clarke needs to know. We all need to know. Clarke can't go into this blind. Not considering who this is." Clarke blanched in confusion. "who this is?" What did that mean? Who was Finley talking about? Ontari took a breath and faced Clarke, standing as if bracing herself for something. "Klark, my mother was told about where Emerson was because of someone who contacted her through a radio. He's someone that she also wants you to kill for pleasure. Jaha. Thelownyus Jaha." Clarke's heart stopped, this time with ice freezing it. There was now nothing but silence in the room after Ontari said that.

Finally, there was a break in that silence thanks to Parker. "Wait, what? What the fuck? You wait till _now_ to tell us that?!" Finley shrugged. "Well, I couldn't just tell you guys out in the open where everyone could hear us. But yeah. Jaha is going to be brought here. It's the queen's way of getting Clarke to basically devour her enemies and kill them. Jaha's on the menu, it just happens that Emerson's an appetizer."

"Yeah, and Jaha's the main course." Parker grumbled, everyone stunned into silence again before Bobbi spoke, glaring at everyone, "Are we done being shocked here? Because last time I checked, we _all_ have issues with Jaha. I mean, Pike might have been the one to kill my parents, but it wouldn't have gotten that bad if Jaha hadn't made the situation worse on the Ark in the first place." "Exactly," Finley said, nodding. She looked at the lost appearing Clarke. "Clarkey, Jaha…he stole something from us both. Your dad. My mom." Clarke almost shuddered at those words, remembering her father's heartbreakingly kind smile before he was pulled out of the airlock by the vacuum of space, as if he didn't have a care in the world even though he knew he was about to die.

Finley looked at Clarke with conviction. "We both deserve justice. We all do. And if Jaha has hurt a few of us, he's hurt all of us. Clarke, let us torture Emerson. We'll cut at him as well so you don't have to do it alone. And Jaha will come next." Finley added, smirking, "Or do you want him to yourself? If that's what you want, I won't stop you." Clarke shivered at the smirk on Finley's face, reminded a little too well of the queen. There was no doubt now at all. Finley was enjoying herself. "You could go and slice him up first. Then the rest of us could go. He killed your dad first, right?"

Clarke shivered, mind spinning. Jaha was going to be brought to the Azgeda. And the twenty-six were prime and ready to tear him to shreds right after Emerson was done with. Her kids were far too covered in blood to turn away now. She had failed them. Her heart mourned the twenty-six that had hardened over the mere months over everything. But there was nothing that could be stopped now, right? At least, not when it came to Emerson and Jaha. Jaha had hurt them all. He might be Wells's father, but he had destroyed them in so many ways. He had hurt so many of them. Taken her father, taken Finley's mother, taken Bobbi's parents, taken Blair's mother, Edmund's mother, Casey's parents, David's father.

Jaha owed all of them.

Clarke took a breath, looking at the others, all of them bearing steel expressions of cold resolve. She glanced at Ontari who had the same murderous look in her eyes as the other. Clarke nodded, knowing that this was the course of action they needed to take if they were to eventually see their goal through with putting their own laws in place and usurping the queen. They had to get rid of those that would be a threat to them. And if they felt enjoyment from it, well that was an unfortunate factor. But unavoidable in this case.

She knew she should have dreaded the words that were about to leave her mouth, but she knew what had to be done, bloodlust or no. "Gen har gen tor blen." She growled out the Azgedasleng words for "blood must have blood." The others grinned back at her and nodded.

There was a creaking noise behind them from the wooden doors and all of them tensed up, reaching for their weapons, ready to dealt with any spies, till the doors opened fully and Rora, Edmund, Beryl and Dallas spilled in, looking at them expectantly. "What did we miss?" Dallas asked, smiling, dirty blonde hair flying as she looked around at everyone. Parker snorted as she rolled her eyes. "A lot. Close the damn door. We'll tell the three of you, but you might want to brace yourselves. Close the doors, guys." The alarmed three walked in, Edmund tucking his bloody rag into his belt, not seeming to care that he had used it to wipe away some poor injured person's injury and when the doors creaked shut under Beryl's hands, the three of them turned to their brothers and sisters. Beryl went over to Clarke and instantly noticing something was wrong.

Rora went to Glenn, seeing his pale face and she quickly cupped his face between her hands, making him meet her dark gaze. "Elro, Glen," She spoke firmly, "Fenno yowa nerklo?" Glenn looked at her weakly, shaking his head. "It's…it's a long story, kran en segara. We…you four need to hear it from Finley." Rora nodded but never lost her concerned look. She brought her left hand up to Glenn's chestnut hair and twirled it along her fingers as she usually did when he got nervous. It tended to calm him down. She turned to Finley and awaited the other girl's words.

Finley nodded, waiting for Beryl, Edmund and Dallas to signal that they were ready. She and the others knew that Rora could be trusted. She was in their inner circle and was in on their plans to overthrow the Ice Queen and her followers. She would probably need to know about this too.

"Clarke?" Beryl asked, worried, reaching out and taking Clarke's hand in hers, squeezing gently and those soft, worried brown eyes reminded Clarke of what Lorena had said. Beryl's parents were dead. Close as they were in age, she was the closest Beryl had to a mom in Beryl's eyes. That was a sobering fact.

Clarke just shook her head, squeezing Beryl's hand back. "Trust me, you're going to need to hear this."

 **Author's Note**

 **Elro: "please" in Azgeda**

 **Fenno: "tell me" in Azgeda**

 **Yowa: "What is" in Azgeda**

 **Nerklo: "wrong" in Azgeda**

 **Sorry for the lack of Anya and Lexa in this chapter. Next one will have them.**

 **So just this little note: anyone that tries to defend Abby by saying the 100 were sent to Earth because of Abby giving Clarke her best chance? Your point? Why was Clarke in that situation to begin with? Because Abby ratted Clarke's dad out to Jaha. That's like saying, "But sweet Bellamy tried to save Lincoln. He didn't get Lincoln killed, our poor little victimized baby." Yeah, but why was Lincoln in the situation he got in during the third season? Because Bellboy helped Pike get elected and helped kill off 300 people that led to Lincoln being there.**

 **You don't get a pat on the head for saving someone or trying to save someone you've put in danger in the first place.**

 **Would you be making the same argument for Clarke when she showed concern for the people at Ton DC when she left them to die to win the war? Considering how many double-standards are thrown at Clarke by this fandom, I fucking doubt that. Since it's apparently okay for every other character to do something questionable except for her, even though she's the only reason any of the 100 are still alive. And what Abby says at Ton DC that "you can't wipe your hands clean this time" or something-referring to Finn.**

 **Wow, using Finn's death against Clarke? That is so fucked up and manipulative that if Abby were a real person, I think I'd kick her ass myself. She might as well have never been Clarke's mother. Seriously, Abby, I think you've surpassed even Prince Charming and Snow White's version of "Parenting" when it comes to Emma. With Charming and Snow White it's like they only have their son and Emma's just a side note. Clarke's only of use to Abby when she's doing what that vile woman says. Oh and here's another pleasant thing to take into consideration. She let Clarke think that Wells was the one that betrayed her to Jaha. So she let Clarke think her childhood friend, and someone below the age of eighteen was the one that got someone killed. Yeah...who was it that thought she should be allowed to have a child?**

 **All the more proof why blamers are toxic and should just be walked away from: Abby, Octavia, Jasper, Miller, Bellamy, just walk away from the toxic asses of people like that. And I meant what I said when I wrote in this chapter that the 100 are parasites. They only care about Clarke when she has something to offer them. Like leeches that latch onto a victim and drain it. Like parasites.**

 **If they had it their way, they'd hollow her out till she was nothing left if except a servant for them, even though as a leader she's the only reason why they're still alive. It's like watching people take everything from someone who gives everything to protect those people, and when that person that gives everything needs help or is in pain in some way, the people that have taken everything are just like, "oh, you're in pain...yeah, sorry, it's too much of an effort. Would love to help though. You can't leave us either, we don't care about your self-care, mental health state. Just ours."**


	16. We will make you pay

**themdet:** **Yes, they very much are weak. And besides Raven, Monty and a few others, they don't really try to contribute much to help each other and Clarke survive. Jasper, Octavia and Bellboy's blunder usually puts them in worse situations.**

 **SnAkEbItE941** **: That's a good point. And I will put that in. But I'll warn you, that now means that in the fictional world, Casey, Edmund, Mario, Bobbi, Blair, Paul and Christopher are shaking angry fists at you. They will have injuries mentioned that they wouldn't have had you not given me that advice. There will be many angry fictional fists shaken.**

 **Just a piece of information, remember that village that supposedly burned down, mentioned by Anya in season 1? The one she mentioned on the bridge when she and Clarke first met? The one Anya claims burned down because of the flares Clarke, Raven and the 100 set off? Do we ever hear about that village ever again? Does Indra ever mention it? Does Lexa ever mention it? No one ever talks about that village ever again afterwards. This follows a theory I have about that.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter sixteen: We will make you pay:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

The information that had been spilled to Edmund, Dallas, Rora and Beryl had earned the exact kind of reactions everyone else had been expecting. There had been shouts from Dallas of, "Wait, what the fuck?!" That was, till Clarke told everyone as firmly as she could to calm down. Rora had been told by Glenn a few seconds before Finley had announced the news who "Emerson" was and then Finley had told them. All four of them had a similar reaction. Thinking that killing Emerson was for the best. Edmund though silent had had a cold, unflinching fire in his dark eyes. Rora's cold and murderous intentions were quite clear, and both Dallas and Beryl had been quite vocal about how they felt about the matter of the newest Azgeda captive.

"Alright, alright." Clarke grumbled, knowing that the verdict was all the same. "But like Finley pointed out, Ontari needs to talk with her mother first. That's the only way any of this is going to be possible."

Clarke looked at Ontari apologetically. Ontari nodded, not seeming to be bothered by this. "Ain," Ontari agreed. "I will bring this to my mother. I will see what it is she has to say on the matter. But do not press this if she refuses." She gave Fynly and the others a stern look. "I know that many of you will try to find a way of getting to Emerson even without my mother's permission, but you cannot risk yourselves. Understand? So if my mother says that she does not wish anyone but Klark to cut at Emerson, you will not go against her orders."

Maaryo scowled. "And leave Clarke to deal with it? The fucker deserves to suffer at all our hands for this."

"Yes, he does," Ontari said, sending Maaryo a dark glare that four and a half months ago would have cowed the sky boy into submission, but did nothing now except make him raise his head in defiance. "But don't forget that if you defy the queen outright, she will punish you. Do you wish to put Klark or the rest of your family through that?" She looked around at the rest of the Sky children, feeling Klark's hand grip her own tightly. "Do any of you? And don't forget, your involvement is important to our cause. Many of you are important to this rebellion. What do you think will happen to that rebellion if any of you die? Do I need to remind any of you?"

The teenagers went still, very still. Their faces were drawn soon in quiet dissatisfaction, aware that Ontari was right. If they pushed this issue, the queen would make them suffer. If that happened, the revolution would be in danger. Despite the many villages they had sacked, Clarke and the twenty-six had developed a system where they would negotiate treaties with villagers leaders. The villagers safety from the queen for a price. That the villagers would back them when the war came against the queen. Those villages around the main Azgeda land that Clarke, Mario, Casey, Beryl, Kristin, Cody, Glenn, Finley, Frank, Paul, Bailey, West, Bobbi and some others had negotiated peace with were their lines of defense during the eventual war against Nia and Nia's forces. If any of them were permanently injured or died, those alliances could potentially be in jeopardy. Even if they decided to ignore that fact, there was the other consequence of them pushing this with the queen. They couldn't risk a member of their family being killed by the queen for outright defiance. They couldn't do that to their family. They couldn't do that to Clarke.

Ontari could see that she had made her point clear to the kids. "Alright," She said quietly and turned to Klark, who though silent, had her jaw locked shut tightly, her blue eyes sparking with tightly wound fear. Not fear for herself, naturally. It was rare when Klark feared for herself. The only reason usually why Klark feared for herself was because she feared what would happen to those she was protecting if anything happened to her. And the twenty-six talking about risking Nia's wrath was pushing that anxiety for Klark further.

Ontari kept her eyes locked with Klark's. "It will be alright, Klark." Ontari promised, though she was sure that she shouldn't have made a promise that she honestly didn't know the outcome of. "I will bring this to my mother. If she says yes then there won't be an issue. If she says no, then we just need to make sure that no one, _no one_ defies her when it comes to that order." Ontari turned again on the twenty-six. "Do we have an understanding?"

A series of nods thankfully followed Ontari's command. Ontari turned back to the still unsettled Klark, trying to keep her emotions in control across her face. Ontari smiled reassuringly at her entarg. "The queen will be available now. She's talking with some of her generals. But as soon as they're done speaking, I will go to her and request that your Seconds be allowed to take part in the torture of the last Mountain Man." Klark nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Ontari." The dark-haired warrior nodded. She glanced at the twenty-six again and looked at Klark once more. "Do you need me to stay here with them? Or should I go to my mother now?"

Klark smiled, shaking her head. "It's fine. I can talk to them alone now. Please talk to Nia. The sooner you request this the better. At least we'll know her answer." Ontari's smile became a firm line and she finally released Klark's hand. "I will go to see my mother now then." Ontari said dutifully. She did not turn to any of the twenty-six. She kept her trusting gaze unbreakable from Klark's as she began to walk from the room. "You have everything here?" Klark nodded. "Yeah. Just give me a few minutes with them. I need to make sure everyone isn't going to try anything." Ontari smiled, ignoring the protests from some of the twenty-six going "hey!"

Ontari opened up the doors and walked out, closing them behind her, making sure no one was listening in. Seeing all of them more than likely had cleared the halls. No one wanted to risk angering both of the queen's heirs, or any of the generals in Wanheda's care. Ontari investigated every inch of the hall though, her hand on her knife, knowing she would kill anyone who was listening in on them. Once she was sure that no one was here listening, she walked back down the hall.

When the door was closed fully, Clarke turned to her people, giving them a warning look. "Seriously, guys," Clarke grumbled, "I can't warn you enough against do anything about this against the queen's orders." She gauged each of their reactions, making sure that no one was going to try to get around the queen's orders and try to go after Emerson unless they were given full authorization. She slowly received nods and vocal confirmations from the others.

She eyed them, making sure. While she was certain that on most days, the whippings that Finley had received in her first month here after the queen had had Clarke branded, the mangled left leg of Casey and the practically unusable right arm of Edmund had been enough of a warning for them not to do anything against the queen's orders unless they were very, very careful. But on other days, it took more than that. Clarke would have to lecture them and watch them to make sure they didn't do anything out of line. And this was one of those times. Knowing that a Mountain Man was being used against Clarke obviously wasn't healthy for them.

After Mario and Paul had both almost been killed by guards of the Azgeda in first half of the second month they had been here, Clarke had stitched them up. She had originally thought, upon first meeting them, that the twenty-six's injuries were mostly a few broken bones, bruises and cuts. But when expected Paul and Mario further, she found slashes all along their abdomens and backs. Casey's leg had been cut up so badly that she could only limp it. Edmund's right arm had been cut in such vital places that he could barely grip things with it. He had to tie his weapons to his right hand and was still learning how to fight with his left.

Down the middle of Paul and Mario's bodies, were the signs of the Azgeda guards' abuse. From the back of Mario's right shoulder, to the middle of his back, there was a slash that had just barely failed to cut through the boy's ribs and the majority of the boy's muscles. Just a few inches from Paul's heart, there was a stab wound where a guard had nearly killed him when the twenty-six first landed, but the queen had ordered Paul be kept alive so that the twenty-six could be used against Clarke to control her. Clarke had discovered the salve and burn and the stitches when she inspected Paul more. Blair was the one that told Clarke that Paul had been stabbed.

Clarke had been horrified when she found the wounds on Edmund, Casey, Paul and Mario. Then she had found a few more than gruesome injuries on Blair and Bobbi. Not nearly as life threatening as Paul and Mario's injuries had been, but it was horrifying to see. Bobbi had cuts on her waist. There had been chunks of flesh hacked away as there had been at Edmund's right arm and Casey's left leg. Unlike Paul, Edmund and Mario and like Casey? If you look closely enough at Bobbi's waist and at all the cuts, you'd see the bone.

Clarke had felt mildly sick when she had seen this before she started to work. When Parker and West had seen the wounds themselves they had both puked on the floors of the main healing room next to the dungeon. Parker and West were two of the lucky ones. The most they had had been cracked ribs, whip marks along their backs and West had a couple of broken fingers. That was about it. It might have been extreme to Clarke before the mountain, but when compared with Casey, Edmund, Mario, Paul and Bobbi's injuries, Parker and West's broken ribs and broken fingers were frankly great to hear about.

Bobbi's waist at first had to be checked every few weeks. Now at least it had to be at least twice a month. A third time a month if you wanted to be very, very careful, which Clarke always did. Between the vigorous training, war missions and the general severity of the wound that Bobbi had received, Bobbi had to be incredibly careful in how she maneuvered herself. All five Bobbi, Casey, Edmund, Paul and Mario did.

Then there had been Blair's infected cuts on her right arm. All six of them had been of the highest risk when it came to potential life threatening wounds. Their injuries were the ones that had to be checked on the most. And then of course there had been the severe whipping that Finley had suffered. Blair's cuts were all but healed by now. Finley's whip marks were now scars. Bobbi's waist needed to be checked on. So did Mario and Paul's wounds and Edmund's arm and Casey's leg. Though they seemed to be healing up faster than expected, it was always a good idea to check.

Given how deep and severe the wounds had been before, Clarke and the others never left those wounds unchecked for long.

So when they came back from their battles, Clarke would usually check them, quick.

It hadn't helped that when an invading group of bandits three months ago had tried to loot the main fortress of the Azgeda and the Azgeda forces had rushed to stop them, Christopher being amongst them, when one of the bandits had tried to slam his spear into Christopher's belly, Christopher had used his right leg as a shield to guard his stomach. The bandit had been sliced through the neck with David's ax a second later. But the spear had been stabbed downwards anyway, doing its intended damage. Just not where the bandit had intended for it to do the damage. The blade had sunken into Christopher's leg deep and painfully. David, Beryl and Martin who had all been there had wisely not removed the spear's blade from Christopher's leg. Instead David held Christopher as Beryl and Martin held Christopher's leg and broke the spear part of the weapon off from the blade, all three of them holding on tightly when Christopher had thrashed in agony. Then David, Beryl and Martin had proceeded to drag Christopher up and help him limp over to the healing center. The four of them had gotten there and given the four's importance in the queen's eyes as a means of controlling Wanheda, had had higher priority than most wounded in the healing center.

But Christopher had proven to be a better person than that. He had practically snarled at the healers there at the time, Gano, Eparna and Hakra to tend to the others wounded first. Then to him. He even threatened to remove some of their hands if they didn't do it quickly. He had pulled his sword out and snarled at them while he did that. So it put the healers into action when it came to the others who were injured. When the three healers were off doing what Christopher ordered, Martin, Beryl and David had acted. They had gotten sutras, needles, aloe and soap and water. Though none of the three of them had had any prior training from Clarke or any of the healers, the three of them had helped their friend. The spear's blade had successfully been removed. The next endeavor of healing Christopher had been much more exhausting and challenging. Keeping Christopher from bleeding out without burning him and risking further infection. But the three of them had after almost three hours, had covered Christopher's wound with soap, disinfectants and stitched up his injury as properly and strongly as they could.

Christopher's leg hadn't been the same as it had been after that for a good couple of months. Clarke had caught wind of what happened with Christopher after she, Ontari, Paul, Jesse, Cameron, Parker, Simone, Sabine and some others and a few Azgeda guards had warded off other bandits and gotten the mass away. She had been proud of all of them. Proud of David, Martin and Beryl being so levelheaded at the time and being as efficient in healing Christopher as they had been and proud of Christopher for putting the needs of the other injured first before himself. Christopher's leg was much better now, but it needed to be checked on every once in a while. He seemed to be able to walk around in the regular way now instead of limping like Casey had to all the time. But it was still a good idea to check his wound.

But for the majority of their injuries, outside of battle at least, had been from "wrongdoings" against the queen.

It just went to show one of the millions of reasons why they needed to tread incredibly delicately around the Ice Queen and make it seem as if they were obeying her every command. And as Ontari had pointed out, much to Clarke's relief, as this was something that would stick with the twenty-six, many members of the twenty-six, much like Clarke herself had made treaties with some of the former rebelling villages. To the queen it appeared as if the villages were falling in line. But in reality the villages were offering their numbers as a means to an end of Wanheda and Ontari being successful in seeing the rebellion through.

If any of them died-that those that made the alliances in the first place, there was a strong possibility that those alliances would be for naught. The revolution might fall to pieces if that was the case. Each alliance with each village made was a closer step towards dethroning Nia. They needed the numbers. As many people who could fight as possible. They had an army of their own of course, but every group of people would matter in this. The death of any "negotiation creator," much less the "Seconds" of Wanheda herself dying would cause a serious rift between the treaties with the different villages. The villagers learning that the twenty-six were Seconds of Wanheda was the only reason why they listened in the first place.

Clarke looked at her family, meeting some of their eyes and said in a calm, clear and strong voice, making sure she got her point across, "Look, guys, you want me to trust you with this? Then prove I'm not wrong to. Don't go against the queen's orders if she says not to touch Emerson. If he's only for me to torture and kill, then let it be." She was thankful for the quiet vocal agreements she received and the few nods she received as well. "Right." She said quietly. "So for now, let's just head over to the usual places where we're supposed to be right now. There's going to be a lot of questions if people notice we're gone." She was agreed with quickly and they all filed out of the room.

Clarke asked Edmund, Dallas and Beryl if they were going to be alright knowing what they knew. They promised they'd be fine. Clarke wasn't sure she believed that. But she went along with what they said and left with the others. The now seemingly more or less silent and stunned group went to their own respective places, knowing not to say a word. Simone, Parker, Lorena and Bobbi went back to the weaponry room. Cody, Kristin, Mario and Cameron went back to training the small kids, Flynt acting like they had never left. West and Blair went to their respective training instructors. Clarke, followed by Finley, Glenn, Rora, Paul, David, Casey, Jesse, Sabine, Christopher and Avery, went to the main fortress to fulfill their own duties for the day. The only little talk they heard was Paul grumbling about people probably messing in the kitchen with the ingredients or his books.

As soon as they reached the main hall of the fortress, entering through the massive doors, pushing back the furs from their already red faces, the little protection they had from the frigid air not doing much anyway, they immediately noticed something was amiss.

The huge hall where onlookers would come to jeer at those that were being humiliated or tortured in the courtroom, or those that would cheer for their returning warriors and for the victories that had been made by those warriors, or just general people in the throne room who would eat there were nowhere to be seen. Clarke walked to the front of the group, finding no one except for the queen on her throne with Saktar and Mathias at her sides and Ontari who was kneeling before the steps of the platform of Nia's throne. Clarke looked around the cavernous room with thousands of stone and bone balconies and steps. There was not a soul here. Because she had seen Saktar and Mathias here behind the queen, she was sure that Martin was somewhere hiding in the shadows, listening in on the conversation. She wondered how he felt about the matter of Emerson and Jaha. Probably the same way as the others. Martin, though laid back and quick to smile, was also quick to cut the throats of any he deemed a threat to the people he cared about.

The queen raised her head and saw the group of people that had just entered. A smile crossed her face, clearly pleased. She raised both her hands and gestured for them to come to her. "Ah, Wanheda. Pleased to see that you and some of your Seconds are here. Come forward. Your entarg has told me a great deal. So your Seconds know about the last Mountain Man. And about the Sky man, Thelownyus. Come closer."

Clarke looked at her companions, watching the unease in their eyes. They didn't like this any more than she did. But still, she nodded to them with encouragement and started walking forward, getting close to the queen's steps, seeing Ontari look over her shoulder at her with worry. Ontari was on one knee in the usual bowing posture. Clarke came up next to Ontari, smiling in reassurance and kneeled down to her own knee in front of the steps, bowing her head, the furs that had been wrapped around her face and hair now on the floor next to her, clutched in her left hand.

Behind her, Clarke heard the gradual shuffling and tapping to the floor, indicating that everyone at her and Ontari's backs were bowing as well. "Now, as I understand," The queen continued, sounding amused, more amused than usual, oddly, "Every last one of you, except for those that haven't returned yet from their patrolling, and Martin, wherever he is, are aware of Emerson's presence. And are aware that Thelownyus is being brought to Azgeda. And from what my daughter has told me, many of your Seconds wish to honor you, Wanheda, by making the Mountain Man suffer their wrath. What do you have to say to this?"

Clarke slowly lifted her head and looked at the queen, fighting the urge to look at Ontari for support. She reminded herself that Ontari was right there next to her and wouldn't leave her side. She kept her face neutral and cool as she raised her head, eyes meeting the queen's, making sure to make her voice as calm as she could, fighting the nervousness of having the queen be this aware of the things she had spoken with her family about behind closed doors.

She answered with as little emotion in her voice as she could manage, "I don't think anything of it, my queen. Only that I understand their anger. But I will only give them permission to take flesh and blood from the Mountain Man if you deem it acceptable. If you command that they are not to raise a blade to the Mountain Man, I will obey your every order, as will they. They will not go near the Mountain Man if you order them not to."

The queen tilted her head slightly, expression never changing. She looked then past Clarke at the people behind her. Clarke tensed, nearly whirling around with fear, but every inch of willpower she had reined that impulse in. She could not and would not turn around and make it obvious that she feared for the twenty-six and Rora deeply. It wasn't like Nia didn't use it against her regularly to get her to destroy villages and torture people. But to show that much fear for her people was just more ammunition that could be used against her. She knuckled down her need to turn around and look at her people to see their reactions and just looked ahead up at the queen, showing no emotion. "And you, Wanheda's warriors, what have you to say to this?" The queen asked, voice too smooth and silky for any of them to like.

Eventually, she heard one affirmation after another from her back. Finley gave the first "Ain, my kwin, we will only do as you command. You say we can torture the Mountain dog, we will. You say we can't, we won't dare touch him." then Glenn and Rora and Christopher. Then Casey and Avery. Then eventually everyone gave their obedient answer. Their answers emotionless and blank. Like a robotic voice recording. Just put the tape in and press play. That was how automatic their reactions were by now. They had trained themselves to do what she said to keep themselves and each other safe. At least, to the queen's face, they had.

These answers seemed to have pleased the queen. She sat back, smiling widely. "Very well." The queen said, her voice now louder than before, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "You want the Mountain Man's blood for Wanheda, warriors? Then take it. If your leader is so willing to give you the Mountain Man and is happy to ask me for permission, well, I can't very well turn down such an opportunity to see Wanheda's very own personal warriors enjoying themselves." The queen looked down at Clarke, meeting the blonde's eyes and again, it took everything Clarke had not to give into her impulses, to glare with hatred at the woman holding all their lives in the balance.

"Klark," The queen said, a frisson of pleasure in the queen's voice at this turn of events, "I'm hoping you would like to watch your Seconds carve into the Mountain Man. It's only such gratitude they deserve." Clarke barely held back her jaw from clenching. Of course the queen was going to have her watch the twenty-six cut into Emerson. The queen didn't wait for Clarke's answer. She lifted her head and looked past her at the twenty-six again. "How about you start with the torture now? I certainly won't have qualms with it, if Wanheda of course does not." She gestured towards the left hand door, leading to the main dungeons. "He's right in there. In the dungeons." The queen got up from her throne, gesturing for Clarke, Ontari and the others at their backs to get up.

"If you will all follow me," The queen said, knowing that everyone in the room knew this wasn't a request, "I will lead you down to the dungeons. You can see the last Mountain Man yourselves. And Klark, you will have the pleasure of witnessing his suffering at the hands of your dear friends. I surely think this is a truly rich reward for all your services, don't you think? To see one of your enemies suffer in the worst way at your friends' hands? And the man who killed your father will also be here soon." The queen pressed the palms of her hands together as she smirked over the mention of Jaha to Clarke. Clarke's stomach tightened, thinking about Jaha coming here. If Emerson wouldn't set off a type of emotional bomb, then Jaha's presence sure would.

She could feel her family getting tense behind her, but said and did nothing. Nothing to attract more of the queen's attention. "Now then," The queen continued, starting to walk to the edge of the podium, walking down the smooth, ivory colored stone steps, "Follow me and we shall begin." Clarke followed after Ontari as soon as her lover began to move after Nia when the queen was down on the floor with Saktar and Mathias at the queen's back, the three of them walking to the dungeon door. Like the crowd that had been following her before, Clarke heard the footsteps behind her. When Nia, Saktar and Mathias were through the door of the dungeon, Clarke felt her left shoulder get bumped and she looked at Finley who was nodding up at something, her bright green eyes glancing upwards. Clarke turned to where Finley was looking. She looked up, following Finley's gaze. Her eyes found the shadowed but not invisible figure of Martin who was just barely poking half of his head out to watch them.

He most likely had heard everything. Clarke lifted her head and mouthed to him quickly, "Leave. Walk away, now." Martin most likely saw her mouthing those words and he shook his head. Clarke glared at him. He didn't budge. Whether it was because he didn't want to leave any of them or because he wanted to see how this would turn out or both, Clarke didn't know. But she didn't have time to focus on Martin, not unless she wanted to alert the queen to his presence. Clarke looked ahead and she and the others walked through the door, down the steps and through the hall. They eventually reached the end cage, where Clarke saw Emerson bound and squirming. She glared, feeling the anger and pain bite at her flesh. The pain of him making that deal with the Commander and what he did to her people bubbling up and ready to consume her at any moment was back as soon as Emerson came into view of Clarke's eyes. And the rage and pain were begging for a release.

Nia turned around, gesturing with an elaborate right hand towards the cage with Emerson inside. "This, warriors is Karl Emerson. The last Mountain Man. The man who hurt your leader's people and who made her stand alone at the mountain when the Commander could have helped her. This is the wretch, Emerson. And he's here all for you to torture."

Finally, Clarke willed herself to look behind her at her family. Every last one of them were staring at Emerson through the space between the bars. Their eyes were glued to the bound man. Some of the hatred was easy to see. But a great deal of what Clarke saw was confusion. Surprise. Perhaps this wasn't the type of man they had been expecting.

Clarke leaned in close to the more startled members of the twenty-six. "Not what you were expecting, guys?" Casey looked at Clarke, lifting an eyebrow, then turned back to Emerson. "That's him?" She mumbled, shaking her head. "I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe horns. I don't know." Clarke chuckled and asked, "Does Jaha have horns, or does he look like a normal human man?" Casey chuckled back, closing her eyes. "Good point." She opened her eyes and stared at the man, venom starting to shine through her dark eyes. "I want to cut him, Clarke. For what he did to you. I want to cut him."

Clarke nodded. "And you'll get to." She ignored the lingering feeling of remorse over Casey yearning for this man's suffering. Regardless of who he was, Casey or any of the others wanting to deliberately cause harm to another hurt to watch. But it was inevitable now. No help for it. They were all in agreement of what was to happen next. And it wasn't like they could just back out now with the queen herself watching. Not unless they wanted to be branded "weak" and sent off to another heartless mission where they would be forced to kill hundreds of innocent people who had never done anything to hurt them. Better a low life that if he had it his way, would see them all dead and their bone marrow taken than innocent Azgeda village children that had never met any of them in their lives.

Clarke nodded, stepping back. "You'll have his blood." She turned to the queen. "Who will start, my queen?"

The queen's all too pleased stared turned on Clarke. "Why," She purred, "That's entirely up to you. Who do _you_ think is most suited to begin cutting at the swine, Klark? You know this filth personally better than all of us here. Who do you think is suited the most to begin to remove pieces of flesh and meat from his putrid bones?" Clarke looked at Emerson at that question, watching his reaction. He was thrashing around, his brown eyes immediately finding her and glaring at her with a molten hot stare of hate. The bandage around his hand from where she had cut him last night was red with his blood. There was another stain on his already filthy shirt. This one looked fresher. It had a light brown color. She didn't believe it was his puke. It would have been yellow, most likely. But there were small particles of what looked like food pieces clinging to the article of dirty clothing. It was likely to keep him alive that the guards had poured stew down his throat and some had stained his shirt. She could see some of it clinging to the small hairs around Emerson's chin, starting to form a beard.

The pain and rage that came off of Emerson was so palpable. Clarke might have once thought that she could never feel that same way, but as soon as she saw him, she could feel the need to spill his blood begin to itch at her again. She slowly turned till she was facing the twenty-six again. She looked at their angry and eager faces, inspecting each one of them. They had tortured before. Sometimes for information on the queen's orders. Sometimes in battle with an enemy. And she knew now that in some of those cases, they genuinely enjoyed it. She looked at each of them carefully, thinking about who would be able to handle doing this the most without snapping and killing Emerson and risking the queen's wrath.

Glenn, Paul, Avery, Jesse and Sabine were the most obvious choices. Considering Edmund, Beryl, Mario, Kristin, Martin and Frank weren't in the room, they were the most levelheaded of the twenty-six present. Were Casey, Finley, David or Christopher be of the first, there would be a risk of Emerson's throat being cut or his heart run through. Clarke finally gave her answer, certain she could trust the girl not to risk angering the queen.

"Jesse." Clarke answered, looking at the dark-skinned, half-Chinese young woman with meaning. "You go first. I want you to be the first." Jesse looked startled at this revelation, but received a smirk from Casey and a pat on her back from David and Paul. Jesse nodded after a few moments, surprised and began to walk over to Clarke, brushing her shoulder gently against Casey's. She walked over past Clarke who nodded her approval and went to the door of the cage to where Emerson was bound. Jesse looked in question at the queen. The queen nodded, smiling cruelly and ordered Saktar to open the door. Saktar unlocked the cage door and pulled the door open. Jesse walked through, looking at the eventual torture victim.

Jesse stared at him, hand going to the leather hilt of her knife, pulling the weapon out, the long, wide blade gleaming in the light of the flaming torches lined along the walls. "Hello, Emerson." Jesse said, really looking at the man, admitting to herself that he was a lot more helpless and ragged looking than she had been expecting. But she supposed months and months of being out alone in the wilderness before his capture would do that to someone. She walked closer to the Mountain Man. To the piece of scum that had caused Clarke so much pain. She was nearly only a few inches from the man, seeing how his once furious eyes that had been fixated on Clarke jumped to her with nervousness beginning to slither into those orbs. She leaned over him, making sure the blade was right in his eyesight.

A cold smile touched Jesse's lips. Torturing for pleasure wasn't her strong suit. Usually when the queen had her torture a prisoner, she felt no pleasure. And she had never experienced such bloodlust like her family had when going off to battle. She had made sure to bury it in the recesses of her mind so she wouldn't enjoy killing innocents. But now? Now she would feel plenty of satisfaction. In some ways she could blame Emerson for that as well as the queen for bringing him here. He was the one that hurt Clarke after all. She brought the knife close to Emerson's left bound arm and started cutting away at his sleeve. As his frightened eyes followed the blade, Jesse spoke quietly. "Do you know who I am?" Emerson panted as he looked at her with confusion and many questions in his eyes. Jesse smirked coldly. "My name's Jesse Song. I'm sort of...Clarke's student. In any case, I care a lot about her. She's like my sister. So when you taunted her with her friends' deaths and torture in Ton DC, and got the Commander to abandon her at the mountain, well, Emerson, you made a huge mistake, I have to say."

Jesse leaned closer as she saw the panic begin to increase in Emerson's wild eyes and she cut away the last of Emerson's sleeve from his left arm, revealing his full, bare, now dirty arm. "Do you see those other teenagers behind the bars? The ones next to Clarke? Those are some more of my and Clarke's sisters and brothers. They want to torture you for what you did to Clarke just as much as I do. You see, we're going to take turns torturing you. It's the only polite thing to do with siblings. Sharing. I think maybe my girlfriend will have a few slashes at you too." Jesse's lips curled back, showing a grin to the horrified and angered Emerson, getting closer to his dirt and soup encrusted face. "There's no Cage or Dante Wallace or Dr. Tsing to help you now, Emerson. There's no deal with anyone that will save you now. Just us and our blades. Maybe your family got off easy and shouldn't have died the way they did, but you deserve far worse for putting Clarke in the position where she _had_ to pull that lever and save her people. You're going to pay, Emerson."

Jesse felt the alien sense of satisfaction at how terrified Emerson looked now, having never felt such exhilaration before, save for when she felt that "fight or flight" instinct in battle. Having the animal that put Clarke through so much pain, and putting her in the situation where Clarke needed to kill hundreds of people to save her own and as a result caused Clarke to be haunted for months and months felt good. It felt dangerously good.

Jesse pressed the edge of her blade against the fatter part of Emerson's left arm, close to the elbow, away from veins at the wrist. "For every day Clarke suffered from memories of the people that she had to kill, all because you, Wallace and his father and Tsing couldn't fucking _wait_ to get bone marrow, we will. Make. You. Pay!" Jesse slashed down her blade through the flesh, meat and fat of Emerson's arm, dicing through the limb as he writhed back against the bars, a howl of pain ripping through Emerson's throat, the gag in his mouth barely keeping it quiet.

 **(Page break)**

 **7 days later**

 **North Atlantic Sea**

 **The Great Stallion**

Training had been surprisingly vigorous on a moving ship. Anya, Lincoln and other Grounder warriors had been running the army, or just the 100 through startlingly rough training. Even the spryest of the bunch like Finn, Charlotte, Sterling, Monroe, Hank and Peyton were out of breath after a few hours. Wells would watch Charlotte's training to make sure nothing too rough happened, but he knew that it wouldn't be too rough for Charlotte. Well, unless Octavia was around.

Wels, Fin and Reivon were below deck now. Anya and Lexa were watching everything with neutral expressions. Anya knew what the limit was for children Sharlot's age was, thanks to training her own sister Tris, not to mention her current Heda, Leksa, when she had been training the to be Commander. She knew when the child would get tired out.

Sharlot had not yet reached her limit today.

Anya observed the other Skaikru who were training around the ship's deck with each other and tribes' warriors. Most of them had been cautious and wary of the tribes' people since coming on board, but after a few days they got used to them being here. Anya noted Oktevia being rougher with some of those training than even Anya's own guards were. The Sky girl was snapping at her fellow Sky people when they lagged and would even backhand one of them when they didn't do what she instructed. Anya's eyes darkened at the sight. There was a difference between striking someone you were training during a fight, and hitting someone for punishment when they didn't do what you said.

For all her strict instructions and the many vigorous trials she had put both Leksa and her sister through, training them, Anya had never raised a hand to either of them when they hadn't done exactly what she said. Anya tried to dismiss what she was watching though. The Sky people, besides Klark and Wels, were not necessarily her people. She had no right to say how they were ordered around. Still, watching Oktevia abuse her power like this as an instructor made Anya's teeth clench. She was grateful when her Commander approached, also observing the training and eventually leaning back against the wooden wall of the ship next to her once mentor.

"Onya," Leksa acknowledged, green eyes on those still training. "I am pleased to see you nearby. Much is happening below. Kint and some of his crew have begun to ready some of the animals for when they are to be killed for food later on in the next ten days." Onya nodded, aware. She knew that many of the 100 and many of the other Skaikru would not accept this, but it had to be done. It was no different from hunting down deer or boars in the forest for food. It just happened that the animals were right here. The only problem was Hapah, Oktevia, Foks, Sharlot and some other goufas had grown some attachments to the animals onboard.

Anya frowned, thinking of how much Klark loved the horses that belonged to the stables in Polis when Anya had brought Klark and Wels to the Commander. As soon as she got close enough she had practically been hugging one around the neck. Anya's muscles tensed at the deep sadness that plagued her, recalling Klark once again. Who knew if their relationship could ever be repaired after Mount Weather?

Anya looked at Leksa, thinking on what had been reported from the scouts they had posted in Azgeda land. "We are certain of what the scout said he saw in 'Vanger?' That was really Klark he saw?" Leksa shook her head, green eyes stormy with discontent. "You heard how he described her. He got a good look at her face before she left to decimate the village." Leksa's words were heavy as they left her lips and Anya could hardly blame her Heda. Even if the 100 and the other Skaikru were threatened, it was hard to imagine Klark helping see to the destruction of an entire village, including the small children.

Anya's chest felt heavy and she could feel every inch of her body become tense at the thought of Klark being forced to do these things under the queen's commands. She knew well that the queen, Nia was merciless and had her own special way of making people do what she wanted them to do. If the queen wanted Klark to be useful to her as a weapon, then the queen would find a way. And if the special pressure points that would bring the most satisfying reaction from Klark that the queen could find, then the queen would exploit those pressure points.

It might have been hard to believe at first and Anya wasn't sure she believed what she had heard still, but if there was ever a weakness that the queen could use against Klark it was Klark's people. Anya knew that firsthand. She had done the same when trying to get Klark to be her healer. She had used Fin and Wels against Klark. Thinking about it later after the war between the Sky people and Anya's own people had ended and now, Anya knew had she been allowed to do that deed, she would have done the same thing. She had a duty to her Commander and to her people. And she would not have turned away from it. The only difference was had she known what Klark would mean to her eventually, she would never have let Klark slip through her fingers that night. _Twice._

She would never have threatened Wels or Fin if she knew then what she knew now, but she would never have left Klark alone in the room with Washington, which led to both Washington's throat being slit and Klark getting away the first time before she was recaptured.

Anya had tried very hard to keep her duty clear as a priority. It had been difficult with the growing feelings that Klark had stoked within her. An unrivaled need, passion and love that had forced Anya's mind to be in conflict with her duty to her people and to her Heda since even before she, Klark and Wels escaped the mountain together. Not even what had been between her first homon, Yekron whom she had once been meant to marry, when she had been at the age of twenty-two before he was killed by a Ripa had she felt such feelings. All the loss she had experienced in her life around that time, her meant to be homon, Yekron, her father, her younger brother. All of their deaths had forced her heart to become frozen. Even having her Seken at the time, Leksa had not helped. If anything, after she had learned of her father, Iarday and her little brother Lakar had been killed, she had kept Leksa at an even further distance, for after the wretched Lake people had been defeated, it had been revealed that the Heda, Ahan had been injured and the injury had been infected. The Commander at that time was doomed to die. And Anya knew well at that time what would happen next.

The Conclave.

She had been certain that her Seken was strong and would be the victor in the end, but Anya had known to be realistic as well. Her Seken also had a strong chance of being killed in the Conclave. For at the time, Anya had seen the other Nightbloods. Many had been skilled, but only one as skilled as Leksa. Luna. Who had also been Trikru. Luna had been the one potentially likely as well as Leksa to ascend. She and her older brother, both Trikru born and both fierce warriors.

It had come as nearly a heart-stopping blessing when Anya had learned of the outcome of the Conclave. Leksa had killed her opponents. And Luna had fled after she had killed her brother, Rosek. She had fled to the Floukru, eventually becoming the tribe's leader. But at that time, Anya had only gauged the messenger who had brought her the news, trying not to stumble with the news she had received. Her Seken, the closest Anya had had to a daughter, as far as a part of her was concerned, _was_ her daughter, had survived and what was more, would be the Commander of all the tribes. And then Leksa had formed the coalition.

Though it had been an unimaginably large relief when Anya had learned that Leksa had survived, she understood that she had to distance herself anyway. Leksa was the Commander then. The Commander's duty was to her people and only to her people. Anya would have been an obstacle to that obligation if she remained close with the Commander and she had known it. So she had distanced herself. That perhaps had hurt them both nearly as much as Leksa's death would have wounded Anya. But Anya had been sure at the time that it would be for the best for both of them. For Leksa so she could remain without distractions and emotions as a leader. And Anya so she would never have another piece of her heart ripped out.

And for their people.

Anya had been a devoted general, maintaining the order within the coalition and serving the Commander as she always swore she would and as she had to the previous commanders before Leksa. And she had looked after what little family she had left, helping raise her baby sister Tris and look after her grieving mother, Orheni, but that was it. She made sure she was without strong emotional ties to get between her and her duty.

And it had been that way since Leksa was ten and became the Commander. The only time Anya had moved from that path before now had been when Leksa's to be unioned, Kostia had been stolen by the Ice queen six years later. And Kostia's head had been brought to Leksa's bedside only three months after Kostia's abduction. Only then had Anya defied her obligations and had offered her once student comfort, holding Leksa as the grief-stricken and mortified Commander had shaken and sobbed, the grotesque, tortured head only feet from them, rotting clearly.

Those had not been easy years afterwards. Only a few days after Kostia's head had been delivered to the Commander's bedside, did Anya offer to march on the grounds of the Azgeda and bring back Nia's head for her Commander. Leksa had ordered her not to, much to Anya's shock. Leksa had stunned her former teacher further when she had explained that they were to welcome the Azgeda into the coalition and have peace. There would be no war between their people. For the sake of all. Though a part of Anya had understood at the time, she knew that she could not have made the same choice. She was not that strong.

And it was with a furious stare that Anya had watched Nia bow before Leksa as the Commander, steeling herself against the desire to take the queen's head right there and then, had welcomed the queen and the queen's tribe into the coalition. To this day, Anya did not know how her commander had prevented herself from cutting every muscle and fiber from the queen's being till the woman felt even a modicum of the pain that the Commander did.

But somehow, Leksa of only seventeen years had not done that.

Once the other tribes' people were dismissed and she and Leksa had been alone, Anya had pleaded with Leksa to let her kill the queen. She said she would slip into the woman's tent and gut her like she deserved. The Commander had not allowed it of course and had ordered her to go back to guarding the Trikru territory. It had taken everything Anya had not to defy her commander's orders, but she had done as Leksa instructed, deciding if her once Second was strong enough to welcome the Queen into the coalition even after Kostia's murder and torture, she could be strong enough to stop herself from starting a war too. She only told Gostos and Indra before she had left to promise her that they would serve their Heda well. They both had promised and Anya had left to the Trikru territory, out of Polis and further into the villages that she led.

And for six years, the two of them had kept their distance. Only greeting each other during war meetings and that was it.

Then a willful, relentless, stubborn, selfless blonde Sky girl had stumbled into the matter like the damn force of nature she was and brought Anya and Leksa back together and had kept them there.

The newly turned nineteen-year-old who had just been spared being "floated" by her own people simply for knowing something she shouldn't have, Klark's loyalty, selflessness, warmth and affection had been a shock to Anya's frozen system. The Trikru had held back and not interfered until those flares had been shot up and Leksa had sent a message to Anya and Anya had practically seen the urgency in Leksa's writing. She wanted the Sky people to be controlled soon. So in the letter, Leksa had created the village that never existed. The lie that both Anya and Lexa had maintained for more than a year now.

They had never uttered that the "village that burnt down from the flares" wasn't even real, because they had been afraid of what that would do to their relationship with Klark and more importantly what that would do to the alliance. But Anya knew that they would have to tell her when they eventually found her. They would need to tell her now more than ever. The destroyed village that Anya had tried to get Klark to form an alliance with her over had never even existed. And even though Lexa had been the one to invent that village's existence, Anya would take the blame so as to steer the closest she had to a child and her Commander from the accusation. But there were the facts. They had been lying to their homon for a while now.

That was one thing amongst others that they needed to fix once they had Klark back with them. They needed to tell her the truth. If Leksa wasn't willing to tell Klark, then Anya would. She'd take the blame and not let Klark know that Leksa had been the one to invent the village, but she would tell Klark the truth about the lies surrounding that made up village, all to control the 100.

But after a year of the 100 stumbling around the wilderness and then getting into battle with the Trikru, things naturally had spun out of many of their control and the Commander had waged war against the 100. And thanks to complicated and terrifying circumstances, Anya and a group of the surviving 100, including Klark had been kidnapped by the Mountain Men and then Klark and Wels had helped Anya escape the mountain.

At the time, Anya hadn't understood why Klark and Wels had helped her. A part of her still didn't entirely understand it. Why help someone escape when that someone had tried to kill you? More than once? But that was what happened. And soon, all three of them were out of the mountain.

Anya had knocked Klark and then Wels out and had tried dragging them off to the Commander, till Klark and Wels had woken up and Klark had done something that Anya hadn't expected. At all. Klark had said "okay." She had insisted that Anya take her and Wels to the Commander of all the Grounders. Understandably, both Anya _and_ Wels had been stunned into silence for a few seconds before Klark had mumbled something to Wels and Wels had nodded in understanding and had agreed soon with what Klark had said. Eventually, a suspicious Anya had learned the reason why Klark had been so eager to meet with Anya's Commander. So that they could negotiate peace and unite against the Mountain Men.

And in the end a very tense and complex sort of treaty got worked out after Anya had presented Klark and Wels to her Commander, both youths bowing before the Commander. Eventually they negotiated that Klark and Wels be returned to their people if they wanted the treaty to work. But Klark and Wels had lived in Polis for quite a few weeks. And though Klark hadn't been aware of it, she had a strong sway on both Anya and on Leksa by that time. Neither Anya nor Leksa had been completely sure of it, but they both understood it for what it was by the time Klark had killed the killer, the Sky boy Jaspa who had let loose many shots in a village, killing children and elderly, killing him as a mercy, risking her own life in the process. When the boy Jaspa had killed those people in the village, they had questioned if he had been sent on purpose by either Klark or Wels, they promised they didn't even know. But the fact remained, Jaspa had to die. So they hunted for him, to give him the death of a thousand cuts.

And Klark saved him from that. Onya remembered Jaspa. He had been with them in the dropship during the battle. He had been terrified. She remembered how he backed away from her, almost hiding behind Klark when the other sky children tied her hands with those red belts and led her out of the ship after the ring of fire went off. He had always been very frightened. Yet he had ended up killing fourteen people. It was proof of how foolish the Ark elders had been, not preparing their children at all. Not training them and giving them strength so they could prepare themselves against an inhuman world. The result had been 100 terrified children, many of them reacting badly to a culture they knew nothing about. And one of them so mindsick he had wreaked havoc upon a village of elderly and children, killing fourteen people.

Anya knew it hadn't been entirely the boy's fault. When one was mindsick, they weren't entirely in control of their actions. She had appealed this to the Commander when Klark and Wels weren't in hearing range. But Leksa stood by her decision. Anya had understood it. It had been that irritating and frustrating thing called politics. If the Commander let the sky boy, Jaspa live, they would be risking the wrath and protests of the villagers. The Commander would be choosing outsiders over her own people. So sparing Jaspa would have been unacceptable. And what happened next when Klark had risked her life by sparing Jaspa of a torturous death by killing him quickly proved to them that though the sky people were at best a trial when it came to people they may protect, Klark called to both their hearts.

Klark had both of their hearts. And by that time neither of them were sure they wanted their hearts back. They knew each other well enough to know that they both were aware of what was happening to them when it came to Klark. It was a secret they shared between the two of them that they didn't bring up with Klark until later. Then Gostos had betrayed them. They hadn't wanted to believe that it had been Klark that had poisoned the drink that Kane had given to the Commander, but the circumstances were hard to steer away from. And Reivon had been found with a strange vial on her. After Gostos had dropped down, clearly poisoned, Anya had slapped the cup full of liquid from Klark's hands, more frightened than she'd give voice to that Klark might be in danger of consuming the poison. And then Reivon had been searched and eventually tied to a post. Thank the gods Klark had figured out that it was the cup that was poisoned, not the drink, and Wels had realized that Gostos had been the culprit. They had lost Gostos and perhaps some of Klark's trust that day. They certainly had lost Reivon's. If the dark-skinned girl's curses thrown at them amongst actual objects being flung (cups, bottles, plates, books and those unpleasant, lit candles) were anything to go by, Reivon would not be forgiving what had almost happened to her anytime soon.

Anya could sometimes still see Reivon's eyes watching the Commander cautiously across the deck, not relaxing until the Commander was out of sight. And she had noticed how Wels tended to put himself between Reivon and the Commander whenever the three of them were in the same room or on deck together. It only fed into what Anya already suspected strongly. Wels did not trust Leksa. After Mount Weather, Anya supposed she couldn't begrudge Wels for that, even if the part of her mind that focused solely on duty told her that she should have.

When planning had started, to go and fight the mountain, Anya had gone off with a scouting party, Wels and Tris with her so they could train, and they had come back to Ton DC, finding it decimated, she had suspected the truth when Leksa and Klark had just appeared. They had left the villages to be decimated to win the war. And Anya did not blame them. They did what they had to do. Anya did not blame them. It just hurt her to know that Leksa and Klark had needed to do that. She knew how it must have killed a part of Klark to do it. To leave all those people to die. And how it must have festered in Leksa like a wound that would never be healed. To do that to her own people.

So Anya had said nothing until they were alone. Just that she knew what happened and she did not blame either of them for it. Klark's shock over Anya's lack of blame had been nearly heartbreaking to watch. It was almost as if she _wanted_ to be blamed for what happened. Then Wels had found out. He had stared at Klark as if he didn't recognize her. But eventually, after killing a Mountain Man that had been threatening Linkin, shooting the man, Wels had understood. The battle had been walked away from so that the war could be won. Wels had just mourned that his "sister" had had to do it. Much to Anya's relief, though she had been surprised by the onslaught of relief, Wels and Klark had soon been talking closely like they had before Ton DC, despite Abi and Oktevia's disgust.

And then Leksa had ordered the retreat from the mountain. Anya had been just as shocked as Linkin. She couldn't believe it. She had pleaded with the Commander not to leave. That they had an obligation to the Sky people, as they were the ones that cured the Ripas and were in an alliance with their own people. But the Commander had given Anya a warning and Anya knew that if she didn't willingly go with the Commander, she might not have a chance to come back for Klark. So Klark had watched them walk away. Anya had sneaked off then, breaking Linkin out of his bonds and the two of them had gone back to the mountain with some other Trikru in secret.

Neither of them had missed the irony of her helping Linkin commit treason. Of the two of them escaping together and going back to the mountain. Given that Anya had seen Linkin as a traitor previously for helping Klark escape during a battle, it was by no means a small piece of irony that she would eventually be sneaking away and breaking Linkin free, helping him get back to the mountain so they could help their respective homons. Helping Klark no less.

Linkin had stared at Anya, shocked that _she_ was the one helping him. Anya had simply said what she knew would get him moving, _"You helped Klark once. Help me help her now."_

Linkin had been the only one to suffer for that. He had been branded a traitor. But no one else. The Commander would not forsake her greatest general and dear teacher.

And Anya had never seen Klark since she had walked away from the blonde at the mountain. And once again, Anya had let Klark slip from her fingers. Because she had let her duty come first.

Anya almost wished she could hate her Commander for that, but couldn't. She had lost a bit of respect for the Commander for abandoning a fight with their decade long enemy, the Mountain Men and suspected that the Commander was not entirely of sound mind to have given the Mountain Men bone marrow to walk above ground, but she did not hate Leksa. But the anger in her over what Klark must have gone through in the Mountain, pulling the lever and killing the Mountain Men, including all the children was undeniable. So yes, a part of her blamed the Commander.

But did she hate the Commander? No, never. A part of her greatly wished she could. But she couldn't.

But she fully despised the Ice Queen for making Klark go through worse, if what the scouts had witnessed was anything to go by. The queen would pay beyond any torture even Nia could come up with for what she had done to Klark. For using her as a blood soaked weapon.

But the worst part of being separated from Klark, without the Ice Nation's aid in making Klark a weapon had been mornings waking up without Klark. The many, many nights that felt like a million nights and mornings during those seven months being separated from Klark had been the hardest. Waking up each morning and not finding Klark next to her on the bed, not being able to pull Klark into her arms, that was the worst part of the separation. That controlling, pompous worm of a man, Titus had had Anya wake Leksa up four months ago when he had been busy with something. When she had woken her Commander up, she had seen how Leksa had reached out next to her almost as soon as she woke up, a pained expression covering her face when she saw she was alone in the bed. Though Anya knew that Leksa and herself waking up alone was no one's fault but their own, it still wounded them both.

It was why Anya took to staying near Leksa when her commander slept since then, making sure Leksa knew someone she was safe with was nearby. Anya slept on a length of fur along the floor, next to the bed. The mornings were always the hardest.

It made Anya wonder, what about Klark? How many nights had she had to wake up in Azgeda alone, in the hands of her captors? Anya still seethed at the thought. How many times did Klark suffer over the betrayal at the mountain?

Anya watched Oktevia snap at the other Skaikru without any patience and shook her head. Oktevia must have thought she would make a good general. She was wrong. Being a general did not just require strength and skill. It required patience. Strategy. Oktevia did not have a skill for either of those. She supposed that was why Oktevia worked so well with Indra. Neither of them had anything in the way of patience. Anya would admit that the girl had a talent for fighting and didn't give up, but that was all. It required more than that to be a leader. And Oktevia didn't have it.

Anya saw movement to the left of the deck and saw Wels emerging from below, walking up to Linkin and observing the scene of the other Skaikru with amusement on his face. She was too far away from Linkin and Wels to hear what they were saying, but it looked like Wels didn't think too highly of Oktevia's methods either. Then again, Wels was a very gentle young man. There had been a great deal of training that he had seen in Polis that he had not agreed with too. Anya looked at her Commander, knowing that while there was a great deal of festering resentment over the mountain that she still possessed towards the Commander, that they both would lay waste to the Azgeda if any harm came to Klark.

Leksa frowned and Anya could tell that something small was vexing her former student. Anya smirked. "What's the matter, Heda? You do not look pleased." Leksa shook her head, appearing disappointed. "The scout saw Klark on top of a piebald horse. She had a perfectly good horse that we gave to her." Anya snorted, earning a dark stare from her Commander. "I'm sorry, Heda," Anya said, not sorry at all, "But what was Klark supposed to do? Tell the Azgeda that she would only use the stallion we gave to her as a present and wait till they had gone across the sea again for him? Was she supposed to ask that they bring Starfall to the Ice Nation?"

Leksa exhaled, smirking and Anya chuckled. "That's besides the point." Leksa said. "Obviously that's not what should have been done. But it's infuriating." Leksa frowned, thinking about everything that had changed in Klark's life. "I know." Anya said. "But we have to stay concentrated. Otherwise we're of no use to Klark." "Starfall" was the large, affectionate, brown stallion that Anya and Lexa had gotten for Klark when they had begun courting her. She immediately had taken to him as he had to her. It had taken a while for her not to be nervous to be on top of a horse, but she had eased up, even became confident enough to ride with Starfall around the fields, having the horse trot. Wels had soon joined her on his own big, grey mare that had been brought to him when he and Klark began to live in Polis to form the alliance.

Anya missed her own horse, Korvan, translated in Gonasleng as "Swift one." But he wasn't trained or bred to run through thick layers of snow. He would have most likely died in the Azgeda lands if they had brought him along. As would have Leksa's horse Jusgona. "Blood warrior." Those horses weren't bred or trained for the freezing weather or the snow. The horses they had brought onboard were bred specifically for the purpose of surviving icy weather and running through hills of snow. But it didn't change that Anya missed Korvan. And she missed Starfall. He was a good horse. Anya knew horses well and knew that Starfall missed Klark. His head hung lower than it used to and his behavior had been much more irritable than it had when Klark had been around him. Anya hated to say it, but she could relate. It was hard not to become irritated towards the fools that surrounded them like in Polis when Klark wasn't around. Klark, like Wels may have encouraged mercy to any who might be resistant to orders or those that were even violent towards her own person, but Anya had not tolerated it for a moment.

Quint, that wretch, the Trikru warrior who had tried to kill Klark for his brother's death had earned a brutal death at Anya's hands, even though Klark had yelled at her not to.

Anya hadn't listened, nor had she understood why Klark would want him spared. But she had killed him, painfully and mercilessly.

Anya noticed Wels look up at her and then glance over to the right. Anya knew Wels was looking at the Commander but he eventually sauntered over to them, siding up next to them, throwing the Commander a cold look before he turned his attention to Anya. "Do you have a good idea of when we'll get there?" Anya shrugged. "Roughly another three weeks. It's been seven days. So a little over twenty-two days." Wels nodded. He didn't look like he liked that answer any more than Anya liked it. But it was true. If the Azgeda had the tek-operated ships then there was little any of them could do with their own ships except sail and paddle.

Anya cocked her head at Wels. "Where is Reivon kom Skaikru?" Wels grimaced. "Below. Resting. She was getting kind of sick. Finn is with her." Anya nodded, not sure if that was true or not or if Reivon just did not want to be above deck with the Commander. Reivon truly being sick wouldn't have been a surprise, though. Reivon did not take well to the sea.

Anya added, smirking, "And you are faring at the sea better? Not even worried about falling over the boat into the water?" Wels gave Anya a glare that the woman knew was without real malice. "I'm not going to drown without trying to swim, thank you." Wels said dryly. When Anya had learned that neither Klark nor Wels could swim, she had, with the Commander's permission, taken the two of them to a river in Polis and had made sure to change that. After several lessons, Wels and Klark had learned how to swim, thanks to Anya.

There was a disgusted snarl from behind them and both Wels and Anya looked to where Oktevia was snapping at Foks for not picking up a sword fast enough. Foks cringed and nodded when Oktevia lifted her hand threateningly, but lowered it when Foks went back to swinging the sword.

Anya heard Wels's snort of disgust next to her and watched him shake his head. "That's just sad." He said quietly. Anya furrowed her eyebrows. "What is sad?" She asked the young man. Wels shrugged, turning to her. "Octavia. She mistakes abuse for strength. She hurts people when she thinks they're not as strong as she wants them to be. It's not training. It's abuse. She just can't see it that way. She's too stubborn to realize it."

Wels added at Anya's perturbed look, "She once hit Lincoln really hard for Lincoln grieving over being a reaper and eating human flesh." Wels glared over at Oktevia and Anya felt her own anger blossom. Though pain was something everyone had to live with and the cured Ripas would have to live with what they had been forced to do for the rest of their lives, for Oktevia to raise a hand to her homon, that was troubling to learn.

Striking one's homon was punished severely. It was considered barbaric amongst many tribes, including the Trikru. Usually it was a man harming a woman. But there were exceptions. Sometimes between a pair of men, one of the men would be abusive towards the other. Or a pair of women, one of the women would be abusive to the other. Those incidents were rare. And rare as well was a woman striking her homon if it was a man. But there were instances. If Oktevia had struck Linkin for something as understandable as mourning the things he had done as a Ripa, it was troubling to think what else Oktevia would find offensive enough to her to earn her physical spite. Usually for such an act, the perpetrator of the crime had a piece of their hand removed for raising it to strike their homon. And the one that was struck could demand either a debt from the one that struck them or as for a "severing" ceremony, a way to break the union. But as most unions were made for purposes of gaining coin or livestock, the severing ceremony was not usually used. But the debt often was.

Anya's thoughts on what Oktevia had done brought the warrior to the question of why Wels had been staring at Oktevia all the way to the docks in Floukru territory. When he wasn't checking on Reivon to make sure she was safe, or looking at the road in front of him as he rode on his horse, Wels would every now and then send Oktevia a hot, angry glare as if the dark-haired girl had offended him in some way. And he had continued to do that for the last few days onboard the ship. "Wels," Anya began, thinking about what she had seen. "Why do you have such a low opinion of Oktevia?" Wels looked at Anya, startled. "What do you mean?" He asked, slightly nervous.

Leksa spoke before Anya could say anything, "She means how you glare at Oktevia." Wels regarded Leksa cautiously and Anya silently cursed, knowing that that would happen, as Wels didn't trust the Commander. But it was good to know that she wasn't the only one that had noticed it. Wels's eyes went to the deck as he said carefully, as if he was betraying a secret, "When Octavia stayed in the mountain, I was with her. We ran into Clarke. She was panicking. _You_ guys left. Abandoned us." Wels turned a hateful glare up at them. Anya steeled herself at what would come next. "Clarke had been so sure we'd be successful with your help that she just didn't know what to do when you turned tail and left us like cowards."

Anya's jaw tightened and she felt Leksa's stare intensifying. Wels continued, a cold smirk on his face with those words, a smile that he soon lost. "Then when Clarke was trying to find a way in, Octavia yelled at her that we were all counting on her and Clarke said that she was doing the best she could." Wels's right fist clenched as did his lower jaw. His eyes went back down to the deck. "And she did. She did do everything she could. For all of us. She did the best she could. And you know what Octavia said?"

Wels lifted his head, his dark eyes shining with anger as he observed both powerful women. "She said 'it's not good enough.' Clarke sacrifices everything. Her own soul for the war. For us. And Octavia who has just been hacking people left and right gets to say that it's not good enough." Anya was taken aback, eyes going wide, unable to help it. Nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing. She had known that Oktevia was abrasive. She knew that Oktevia strongly disagreed with Leksa and Klark's decision when it came to Ton DC. But she had not been expecting _this_.

Anya took a glance at Leksa who had narrowed her eyes and was looking to where Oktevia was with cold and merciless steel. She knew instantly that her commander had the same low opinion now of Oktevia that she did. Anya looked back at Wels, stepping closer. "But you were there for her." She said to Wels, knowing that Wels would not have betrayed Klark like Oktevia had. Like she and Leksa had. Wels nodded. "Yeah." He said quietly reaching up his clenched hand and wiping at his eyes. "I tried to be. And even that didn't make a difference. Clarke still had to do something horrible."

"Many times in war-" Leksa began and Anya looked at her once student with unease, hoping her commander could read her look. Wels would not welcome any council from Leksa. She had not returned to the mountain. Leksa caught Anya's glance and she frowned, not talking anymore. Anya turned back to the questioning looking Wels and started, "What she means is that war makes everyone into a monster. Just because you do terrible things to win a war and save lives doesn't mean that you are heartless or ever were. It just means that you have to give your heart up, temporarily. If not permanently." Anya had meant those words as words of wisdom, but given the context, it felt more dreadful than before as Anya thought of what Klark had had to go through in the mountain and likely was going through now.

Oddly, Wels didn't look angered or pained by those words. He just nodded. "I know that." He said calmly, breathing in and then exhaling. "I just wish everyone else knew that." Anya nodded, understanding. Wels added, his lower jaw tightening, "Monty, Octavia, the others. They just don't get it. Miller? That guy that you sent back to camp because he was being stubborn?" Anya cocked her head slightly and nodded, recalling Wels looking at Milla accusingly while they were riding before Milla had given his enraging words, showing what kind of coward he was. Wels took a breath and said, "When we were in the mountain, we were being held captive and treated well as we told you. Miller was one of the people that fell for the Mountain Men's tricks. He thought Clarke was being ungrateful for not doing exactly what the Mountain Men said." Anya's teeth clenched. She was glad that Milla was not here with them now. If he was, she might have thrown him overboard into the ocean below.

Anya had known always that Klark's history with these people was…complicated. Klark had confessed to both Anya and Leksa what her mother had done. That her mother was the reason why her father wasn't alive anymore. Klark's own mother was not to be trusted. It was why Anya did not trust Abi on this voyage. Did Abi love Klark enough to go all the way to the Ice Nation to bring her back? Perhaps. But that wasn't the same as loving someone enough to let them grow up and be a leader. Anya had heard some of the things Abi said in Ton DC when it came to her daughter's decisions. Abi had never seemed to respect Klark's authority.

If Abi had been anyone else, Anya would have removed the woman's tongue for disrespecting her homon.

There was a clanging noise and their attentions were brought back over to the training on the deck when she, Leksa and Wels heard laughing and chuckling over on the middle of the deck. They looked over at the scene to see what it was that was bringing the laughter.

Sharlot was swinging a couple of swords around, clearly never having sported around two at the same time, and suffered the consequences for it quickly. This was what was bringing on the bouts of chuckling. She stumbled backwards, trying to heave up the two heavy things at the same time, and fell backwards, the swords dropping onto the deck and sliding along the wood, making Sterlying jump back when one of the blades almost hit his ankle. This brought more laughter.

"Ah crap," Wels grumbled, about to walk over to Sharlot when Oktevia stormed over to the girl, bringing a gasp from the dark-skinned young man. "Charlotte!" Oktevia spat, grabbing the girl by the collar and pulling the girl up to her feet. "What the hell are you doing? Don't pick up two swords at the same time. You can't even handle one. God. So pathetic." Octavia shook Charlotte in her grasp. Charlotte glared. "I was just practicing. There's plenty of time to get better. And you don't tell me what to do. You might be a council member, but you don't make _all_ the decisions, O." Octavia's breath heaved out, nostrils flaring and both Wels and Anya were running over to the scene before they knew it when Octavia started raising her hand.

"You whiny little shit," Octavia growled, "Stop being so weak. I'll-" "You'll do nothing." Wells snapped, jumping between Charlotte and Octavia. He glared at Octavia. "That's enough, Blake. You've made your point. Charlotte gets it. You don't get to hit her just because she mouths off at you." Octavia looked startled, then affronted. "Oh please, Jaha. Stop coddling her. She has to learn whose boss."

"And that is not you." Anya said, her voice like ice, making Oktevia whirl around and look at the Grounder general, startled. Anya's eyes were dark with warning. "Those that have authority on this ship rank from the Commander, to me, to the captain, Kint. But amongst those with authority here, the council members of the Skaikru have the least amount of authority besides warriors. And you will not raise a hand to that goufa."

The anger thrown at Anya in Octavia's glare would have been staggering had the glare been aimed at anyone else. Wells was just crouching down and making sure Charlotte was okay.

Anya kept a cool stare into Oktevia's glowering gaze. Oktevia said angrily, "We have just as much say as a general does. You think you're as important as the Commander? Not like she's trustworthy anyway." Anya scowled. "Watch your tongue, Sky girl. And no, I'm not as important. But I still have more authority than you do. The sky people are not part of the coalition yet. You have no authority within our coalition until you join it." Octavia's body posture got tight and her hands clenched up. Wells scooted himself and Charlotte further away, sure this was going to escalate. Everyone around them was staring. From the rest of the 100 and the warriors around deck, their eyes were fixated on what was happening.

Unfortunately, Wells had an idea of what might happen next. Anya, while strict and rough was not borderline abusive. She believed in strength, but she understood the difference between training and abusing your own power. Octavia was too pig-headed to be able to make the distinction and was too pig-headed to listen to anyone else except herself. And Octavia would potentially get violent if she felt like she was having her worldview threatened.

This would not end well.

"Why would we join you anyway?" Octavia snarled. "You left us to die. And you didn't destroy the mountain. That was us." Anya shook her head before Octavia could get another word in. "No, that wasn't you. That was Klark. The rest of you here? You didn't do anything like that. Why do you sky people keep taking credit for something you did not do? And we're not discussing that. We're discussing you being out of line with Sharlot just because she's not doing what you want. We're talking about you raising your hand to a child for talking back." Octavia actually took a step back, not expecting that. "I was _training_ her! Trikru know all about that." Octavia's voice was a sneer, "Don't tell me the Trikru general can't handle some training."

Anya's face remained stoic as she spoke smoothly. "There's a difference between training and what you were doing. You were about to hit her for talking back. We never physically punish children we train unless they have stolen, run away, or hurt another child. You would know that if you paid more attention to the lessons Indra taught you. I swear you sky people are too stupid to survive this world." Anya looked past Oktevia at Wels. "Save for a few."

Octavia growled, "We can survive well enough. And I am Trikru." Anya shook her head, almost looking somber somehow now. "No, you're not. You don't understand the things you've learned in our culture. To you it's simplistic and doesn't need understanding. You don't understand our culture or our ways because you won't try. You've already decided what it _should_ be. You are not Trikru. Not really." As Octavia sucked in a harsh breath, Wells knew something was about to explode. Anya gestured behind Octavia to Wells. "That man behind you is more Trikru than you'll ever be. And so is Klark."

Octavia's breath was becoming rapid and hot and angry and Wells kept himself between the scene and Charlotte, tense over Anya saying that about him. While he appreciated the praise that Anya considered him somewhat more Trikru than Octavia, he did not want Octavia's attention on him right now. Not the way she was now. Though Wells would not deny the small swell of pride he felt deep in his chest over Anya's praise of him and Clarke. Despite what happened at the mountain, Anya had come back with Lincoln. If there was any Trikru whose opinion Wells respected, it was hers as well as Lincoln's. But for Octavia to hear that she wasn't considered by Anya a Trikru? That was not a good thing for Octavia to hear. Octavia identified herself as Trikru. Her identity as Trikru was one of the things that kept Octavia going. That she had people to call her own besides the people that cast her out just for being born. And Wells understood it, even though his situation was quite different from Octavia's. But that didn't excuse how she treated everyone just because she felt like she had been treated unfairly. He understood Octavia's resentment plenty, but it didn't excuse how she treated people.

And now, Anya was challenging Octavia's self-identity. This was not going to be good. Wells pulled Charlotte away, standing up and standing in front of her protectively. He predicted it when a furious Octavia swung her right fist.

Lincoln yelled out Octavia's name, but Octavia did not seem to hear him as her fist flew. But Octavia's balled up fist did nothing. Anya caught it in seconds, pulling it from her now smirking face and twisting Octavia's arm at the wrist. There was a hiss from Octavia and Anya gave the younger a cold smile.

Anya then said two words that stopped Wells's heart. "I accept."

Octavia seemed surprised by this and asked, snarling, "What are you talking about?"

Anya chuckled twisting Octavia's arm further back, making the younger hiss and Anya answered, "I accept you hitting me as a challenge. That's the problem with you, Oktevia. A problem with a great deal of you Sky people. You don't recognize when you've gotten in over your head. You tried to strike me. I recognize that as a challenge." Anya nodded to the middle of the deck, a few feet over. "Here. Between you and I, Skai branwada. You are no Trikru. And I will prove that to you."

An enraged Octavia hissed, glaring at Anya who never changed her expression. Wells's chest was tight. He knew that Anya was crossing a big line with Octavia now. Octavia was about to explode like a big time bomb. She prided herself one of the Trikru. To challenge that idea of Octavia's was...dangerous. Octavia stepped back, pulling her hand out of Anya's grasp, her teeth bared. "Fine!" Octavia snapped. "I'm going to kick your ass. You'll regret ever leaving us to die at the mountain, natrona."

Anya's smirk remained the same and Wells had a feeling he was not going to like what happened next. He was going to take Charlotte below deck, fast. He picked Charlotte up quickly, speaking to her softly that they should get off deck before anything bad happened. He carried her over to the cabin and went down the stairs swiftly below, moving his head a bit to get his thick, black hair that had grown out away from his eyes. He got down below, where Raven was laying down and Finn had a few pieces of crackers for her to eat. Wells withheld a groan as he brought Charlotte over, much to Finn's surprised and Raven's dazed puzzlement, her eyes glazed over with her seasickness. He'd explain in a second. He was just glad he had gotten Charlotte out of there. Somehow he had the feeling that an actual minefield would have been safer than staying up there a second longer.

 **Author's note:**

 **Natrona: Trigedasleng word for 'traitor'**

 **Branwada: Trigedasleng word for 'idiot' or moron**

 **So like I said in the author's note above, I don't think the village mentioned on the bridge when Anya and Clarke first meet exists in the series. We never hear about it again. Only about the ring of fire. It's just a theory I have. It was invented by Lexa in hopes of keeping the 100 in line.**

 **So I really wanted to write that Anya and Octavia scene for a while. I was just rubbing my hands together grinning, going, "I'm gonna write a scene where Anya kicks Octavia's ass."**

 **You know that scene when Octavia beat Lincoln for being "weak" just because he understandably was traumatized over eating human flesh? Or hitting Indra for the same reason. Because she was "weak" for being traumatized over her people dying? That pisses me off. Or how about when she was killing Grounders and Sky People left and right after Lincoln's death and just when they have to focus on making sure that humanity survives "long term" when the apocalypse is happening, Octavia decides to screw over the Sky people,** _ **and**_ **the Trikru people, her own people all to get "all people" into the bunker…that's literally not how anything works. Octavia, there's such a thing as common sense and logic.**

 **You, Octavia, you little psychopath, don't have such things as common sense and logic.**

 **It isn't just Octavia's stupidity that pisses me off. It's how the fandom treats her that pisses me off. Like she's this great character, even though she's a complete abuser. She's an abuser both physically and emotionally.**

 **If Lincoln, a man, what's more, a** _ **black**_ **man ever hit Octavia, you would have been up in arms. But it's okay. Your great, white girl "hero" is hitting a black character, so who cares? It just shows that she's so, sooooo "strong." Riiiigggghhht.**

 **I can literally picture Octavia proudly proclaiming that she's "not like all the other girls." And proudly stating "that she's never gotten along with girls." She is symbolic of every girl that thinks they're better than other girls and is happy to cut them down just because she's loud and thinks loud, headstrong and vocal equals better. Basically, she's the type that wouldn't even realize how she suffers from self-internalized misogyny. All for the attention of a man or those she hopes will pat her on the head.**

 **Like I've said in previous chapters, misogynistic women** _ **will**_ **cut down other women to champion other women characters. I'm pretty sure this is how Octavia Blake fans are with Octavia. And one thing people don't acknowledge when it comes to Octavia. She basically thinks all Trikru are the same and has a high bar for them. If they don't act exactly the way she wants them to act, she flips her lid. Labeling all Trikru as the same, even if it's a "positive stereotype" is still racism.**

 **Next chapter, Anya kicks Octavia's ass and I break out the popcorn. Yes, I'm very mature as you can see.**


	17. Every word they spoke was a lie

**SnAkEbItE941: I bet. There will be more mentions of their injuries in the next chapter. Along with author's note character fist shaking.**

 **kayliah:** **Precisely. Except sheep aren't so bloodthirsty.**

 **skullgamerscy: Hope this fight is going to be to your liking.**

 **Dragoncila: They understand what they did. But Lexa views it as "necessary." To save her people. Even though you know, she gave her sworn enemies bone marrow? Anya understands perfectly that it's betrayal and even wishes she could hate Lexa for it, but can't. **

**So as indicated in the previous chapter, Octavia will not be treated well. Yes, Octavia apparently you know how to be more Trikru than the Trikru do. That just smells of racism. This is why I can't stomach Octavia fans. They love a violent, abusive self-righteous asshole who thinks all Grounders are the same and they excuse it because her version of "all the same" is a positive stereotype. I regard Octavia fans with as much respect as I do Bellamy fans or Bellarke fans. That is, no respect at all. Yes, positive stereotypes isn't racism at all and Bellboy didn't have sex with children and he didn't kill 150 in the first season to save his own life. No one else's life. Just his. Nothing wrong with that, right? Everyone detect the sarcasm when I say he didn't do that and that there's nothing wrong with that.**

 **Have you heard of white savior complex? Octavia reeks of it. Yes, Octavia, you know Grounder culture so much better than Grounders themselves. That doesn't make you racist or bigoted at all.**

 **Because apparently an abusive piece of shit who is incapable of admitting when she's wrong and not knowing a thing about leading people and almost got all of humanity killed in season 4 is the epitome of what women characters should aspire to be. No wonder she fits in with the Trikru. She's just as dumb and irrational as they are.**

 **Octavia is not a good character. She's a murderous war machine that doesn't ask questions before killing people left and right and thinking she's better than everyone else. She's nothing but a killing machine, just like her brother. No brain, no heart.**

 **Trigger warnings for mentions of trauma, descriptions of torture, severe violence, mentions of horrible, brutal deaths and mentioned rapes during war.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 17: Every word they spoke was a lie:**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Below deck, Charlotte stayed close to Wells as she heard the clunky footsteps hitting the wooden boards above them. Next to them was Finn, pressing the back of his hand against Raven's forehead. Raven was glaring at Finn and Wells. "Stop it you two," She grumbled. "I don't need two mother hens hanging out with me like I'm a baby." Finn smiled. "Come on, you know that's not it." Wells nodded. It wasn't like he was going anywhere. Even if Raven wasn't getting seasick or there was basically about to be a big borderline war up on the deck, he wanted to be near Raven. If only to hear her call them dumb for worrying about her.

There were footsteps going down the wooden stairs behind them and he turned to see a frightened looking Fox, Harper and a bewildered Monroe and Sterling. Fox came up to the bed and sat down at the foot of Raven's bed, the girl gulping. "I don't want to be up there anymore." She said quietly. "Octavia's a little intense." Wells snorted. "A little? Really, a little, Fox?" He smirked and kept his eyes on Raven. Harper and Monroe pulled up some wooden chairs and sat down in them next to Wells and Charlotte. "Yeah," Monroe snorted as Sterling brought over a small, wooden stool and sat down on it. "It's O's way or the highway." Monroe shrugged, "I'm glad it's her calling the shots and not me, but someone really needs to take that stick out of her ass." Raven groaned, smirking. "Well, we can worry about the rectal placement in Octavia's ass later. I'm too nauseous to want to hear about anything up anyone's rear. Fuck, I'm thirsty." Wells got up, letting go of Charlotte's hand and he walked over to one of the barrels holding fresh water. He grabbed one of the wooden cups and opened up the freshwater barrel closest to him. He dipped the wooden cup in and scooped some water out, closing the barrel and leaning his hand towards Raven.

He tilted the cup, letting Raven gulp down the water. After a few gulps that Raven took, Wells pulled the cup and asked if she wanted more. She shook her head and said quietly, "Thanks, Jaha." The young man nodded. Monroe sighed, looking up at the deck as they heard more movement above, "Well, we'll either hear Octavia gloating from here to Arkadia or she'll be glaring at us and not saying anything about it because she's too ashamed. We'll see, I guess."

Sterling nodded. "Yeah, it's starting to look like World War Three up there." Finn snorted, "I thought that was World War Four? Didn't World War Three almost end the world?" "Oh yeah." Sterling chuckled grimly. Wells smirked as Raven gulped down the water and glower at all of them. "Just what I wanted." She grunted. "Talking about near apocalypses while getting ready to puke my guts out. Just love traveling."

Up above deck, crowds of Skaikru, Floukru and Trikru alike had gathered, surrounding the scene as the furious Octavia circled the stationary, far too calm Anya. From where she was observing, Lexa remained close, for the safety of the other watchers, stayed close to Abi and Linkin, should they try to do anything foolish to aid Oktevia. Abi turned to Leksa, eyes panicked as she glared at the young woman. "Commander, you can order this to stop, can't you?" She asked. Leksa sighed, watching still. "Yes, I could, Abi kom Skaikru. But I won't. Oktevia knew what she was doing when she tried to hit Onya. She knows our laws. And Onya wanted to do this. They are both warriors. They both made their decisions. Let them complete their tasks."

Abi scowled at the Commander. "And if Anya hurts Octavia?" The Commander sighed, turning her eyes away from Abi, wondering how this woman could be Klark's mother, "Then you will heal Oktevia. And Oktevia will learn a lesson. She will perhaps even learn discipline." Abi stared at the other in disbelief, glowering so harshly that she almost jumped when she heard Octavia let loose a wild cry as she charged Anya. Abby whirled around and watched as Octavia ran at the older woman. Still Anya did not move from where she stood.

Only when Octavia was just an inch from Anya, raising her right balled up fist to throw it down into Anya's face, did the older react. Anya turned her body and grasped Octavia's arm in her left hand, her right going to Octavia's right shoulder, lifting up. Octavia's enraged face became startled as her feet left the deck and was sent hurtling towards the other side of the deck, thrown headfirst. It was only because of Octavia's training that the younger landed in a way that she could roll herself, then jump up off the deck onto her feet, whirling around and charging at Anya again, face marred with the ever present anger.

Abby was just grateful that the Commander had ordered there be no blades used in this fight, because they couldn't risk injuries to those that were going to retrieve Clarke. Abby watched, panic increasing when Octavia barreled into Anya, only to have her legs kicked out from under her and her chest hit hard with Anya's right thrust out fist. Octavia went flying backwards again, crying out in more of anger than pain. The brunette sprawled backwards across the deck. This time, instead of waiting for Octavia to get up, Anya lunged forward, face cold and unfeeling, dark eyes fiery with resolve.

Both Octavia and Anya had shed their jackets so they could move around better. Anya's smooth, copper skinned arms were slender, but muscled and toned. There were black tribal tattoos that surrounded Anya's shoulders and elbows. Kill marks that Abby could just make out behind Anya's shoulders as the woman grabbed Octavia's left leg and swung the brunette all the way across the other side of the deck, making Octavia ram hard into the ship's wall. Abby winced. She couldn't say she was expecting any better from these savages. Lincoln and Octavia had told her what those marks on Anya's shoulders meant. Kill marks. Marking yourself with what was considered "accomplishments." These people took pride in killing people. It repulsed Abby greatly. What kind of animals did that? Thought they deserved prizes for killing people?

It had been one of the reasons why Abby had been so against Clarke entering her relationship with Anya and the commander. She had dreaded it as soon as she had seen the way her daughter looked at Anya when Clarke, Anya and Wells had come to Camp Jaha from "Polis" on horseback, no less, with news of a possible alliance with the Grounders. She had seen the way Clarke had looked at Anya when Clarke was sure that the Grounder was not looking. The intensity and wonder in Clarke's gaze had sent chills through Abby. Of all people for Clarke to desire, Clarke had chosen a hardened warmonger. A hardened warmonger who was currently ducking down as Octavia got up and charged at her, using her body to scoop Octavia up as she ducked down and threw Octavia again over her shoulders, tossing Octavia across the deck once more.

This time, Octavia landed hard and painfully. She slammed down hard onto the wooden deck, on her chest and stomach. Abby noticed Lincoln nearly rush forward to help her, but his legs seemed to stiffen just in time. She watched as Lincoln's face became unreadable. Abby felt more disgusted than ever. The Grounders were savages. They solved everything by fighting. And when someone tried to interfere they were seen as "weak." Abby's chest went tight as Octavia struggled to her feet and growled, furious, running at the still Anya again. When it had become apparent that Clarke wanted to be with Anya, Abby had forbidden it. Abby didn't care that it was another woman that Clarke desired. What she cared about was that it was _that_ woman.

Octavia went hurdling towards Anya, her right hand turned into a fist, swinging it, only to be grasped by her wrist and forced violently to the right by Anya putting her whole body into the movement. Octavia was flung once again towards one end of the deck, several gathered Grounders that had wanted to watch the fight got out of the way as Octavia crash landed on the deck there. A furious groan left Octavia's throat as she got up and lunged for Anya again, fists balled up and bore, ready to punch, only for Anya to grasp both her arms with her own hands, twisting Octavia around so that Octavia's back was to Anya. Anya then lifted up her right leg and slammed her foot into Octavia's back. Octavia was already winded because of how much she had been tossed around, so she wasn't able hold herself up steadily when Anya's blow to her back came. Octavia was soon down on her knees on the deck.

As soon as she was in that position, Anya twisted Octavia's arms even more behind the brunette's back, her right hand letting go, but her left hand holding Octavia's wrists. Anya leaned down her left leg lifting and dropping down onto the back of Octavia's calves, stilling the younger from moving. Anya's right arm then grappled around Octavia's throat, squeezing.

Anya sneered into Octavia's ear as she put pressure down onto the younger's neck, uncaring that she knew that inside the girl was seething, "You think you're Trikru, girl? You don't even know what that word means. You don't care to know our laws, our traditions, our lessons, our values, they mean nothing to you. You don't even care to know them. You have decided already what they mean. That is not becoming Trikru. That is making a mockery of our culture. You are unworthy of our culture because you do not value it. You wish to use it only as a way of spiting the people that rejected you. Nothing more. We are not your people. And you gave your people up out of hatred. You have no people."

Octavia screamed out a strained cry, wriggling in futility against Anya's hold. Anya finally released Octavia when she squeezed the younger's throat hard and threw Octavia down onto the deck, Octavia's head smacking against the deck before Anya released her and hopped off the brunette. Anya walked back from Octavia, a dark scowl on her face as she announced, "We're done here. I'm not interested in the opinions of a weakling who can't even accept a culture as it is." She walked back from the seething Octavia who was slowly and sluggishly now, getting up, grabbing her head, wincing. "You say you are Trikru," Anya said, voice steel, "But you do not care about what our culture means. You have decided yourself what that means. That doesn't make you one of us. That makes you wish you were one of us with an ignorant understanding of what it means to be Trikru. You are not worth my time."

Anya turned and began to walk from Octavia, waving her right hand in a gesture that meant that she was done with the fight and other Trikru warriors moved out of her way. Octavia unfortunately was not finished.

Octavia stood there, words that Anya had thrown at her feeling more and more like closing walls. _"You have no people. You have no people. You have no people."_ Octavia let loose a howl of rage, memories of her mother and being kept under floorboards and being seen as a mistake worthy of being floated just for being born flashed through her mind. She ran at Anya, blind with rage, not caring that the order specifically had been not to kill or maim. She couldn't focus on that. She didn't _care_ about that. She ran and leapt up to jump on Anya's back and strangle her, her movements earning many shocked and enraged gasps and snarls.

She didn't even register the disgusted his from one man saying, "Cowardly, dishonorable Sky girl!"

Anya, however, was ready. The tall Grounder woman whirled around, swinging both her left leg and her left arm around, smacking Octavia along the head and into Octavia's ribcage. She hit with all her force and Octavia was sent hurdling away, hitting the middle of the deck. Octavia cried out as she landed. Anya hissed, staring in disgust at Octavia. She turned to Lincoln who watched with horror on his face over what Octavia had done.

"This is your homon, Linkin?" Anya asked the former Trikru man, making him look at her in desperation. "This coward who attempts to attack me while my back is turned and I've left the fight is your homon? You might be natrona, Linkin, but I thought you had more honor than to be with someone as lowly as this." Before Lincoln could respond, Anya turned to the Commander as Octavia started to get up. "Heda," Anya said, seeing her former student's enraged eyes as Lexa stared at Oktevia. "Permission to commit punishment of cowardice."

Leksa looked at her former mentor and back and the still fuming Oktevia. Leksa's face hardened. She recalled what Wels kom Skaikru had said about what Oktevia had said to Klark in the Mountain. Not good enough. Leksa did not wish to be petty or vengeful outside of punishing murderers or rapists, but to see Oktevia punished, despite Leksa's reasons being for something entirely different, like hurting Klark, was too good an opportunity to turn away from. "Permission granted, Onya." Leksa answered.

Anya smirked and turned back to Oktevia who now looked worried. Linkin spoke, fearing for his homon, "Heda, please!" Leksa sent Linkin a sharp look. "Oktevia will live." Leksa answered, "But she must be punished for trying to kill or wound someone while they are leaving a fight. And doing it when we are in need of warriors for a battle. She will not be wounded beyond healing. But she must be sentenced." She looked up at the wooden balcony where Kint was standing. "Kint! Have your warriors tie Oktevia kom Skaikru to the mast and keep her there for four days. We will feed her and give her water and untie her only when the tides are high. But besides that she will be a prisoner for four days."

There were gasps around from many of the Skaikru and from some Trikru and Floukru. But most Floukru and Trikru began to close in on the backing away and now punching Oktevia, who eventually was overpowered and soon dragged to the mast, where ropes began to wrap around her legs, her arms forced behind her back and the mast, being tied.

Lincoln stepped forward, eyes hard, ready to defend his homon, when Anya held her right arm out in front of him, stopping him. He looked at her, angry and startled. Anya shook her head. "You don't want to stop this, Linkin. If Oktevia wishes to be a Trikru, she must learn that she is _not_ above our punishments. This is not a bad punishment. We are not having her lashed. And she will be fed and given water. The most that will happen will be that her arms and legs will ache from being in that position. But she will have time to move for more than ten days. We still have a while to go before we reach Azgeda territory. The most she will suffer from is boredom. She must have this done to her if she wishes to understand us. She is not safe from our punishments. She wishes to be one of us? She must suffer our punishments when she has done something wrong."

Anya watched as Lincoln considered this and felt a bit of relief when he lowered his head, eyes downcast mournfully. She moved away from him and watched as Oktevia was successfully bound up against the mast. When the rest of the crew had moved away, Lincoln only then moved forward, speaking to her softly in Trigedasleng that he would stay with her the whole time.

Anya sighed, pain in her chest, ignoring the envy at seeing them together. Klark…

Anya came up next to Leksa, ignoring Abi's disgusted remarks about how they had to untie Oktevia and that this was barbaric behavior. Anya said to Abi calmly, "We don't have time to argue with fools, Abi. I must speak with Heda. And I would like it if you left. Or should we have some of the warriors remove you?" Abi's eyes blazed with anger, but much to Anya's satisfaction, a little fear was mixed in there too. Abby scowled and moved away from the two Grounders. Anya waited till Abi was far away from them till she turned to Leksa.

She spoke softly in Trigedasleng. "Thank you, Heda. I don't think Linkin would have helped us if we had lashed Oktevia." The Commander nodded. "Sha. I believe that too. This way she will know our punishments and there will be less chance of treachery." Anya smirked, showing teeth, "Speak true, Heda, you did that to Oktevia for Klark, not for me, right?" Leksa eyed Anya a moment before nodding. "Sha." She admitted. She glanced at where Oktevia was seething, red-faced. Leksa's green eyes glinted dangerously as she spoke quietly. "Klark has sacrificed everything for her people. And Oktevia gives her such spite? If humbling her is what it will take for her to not act out or hurt someone without need be, then I will do it." She felt Onya nod next to her. "Agreed." Onya shrugged. "It was why I had this fight with her in the first place. She is foolish and small-minded. A dangerous thing when she is as strong and violent as she is. I do not care if she learns from this. I don't believe she _can_ learn from this. What I care about is that she never speaks to Klark the way Wels told us she did again."

Leksa tried not to smirk. It was a sign of weakness to care this much about one person that they were willing to commit such a punishment, instead of doing it to instill a lesson. But considering Leksa had always known that Oktevia was a danger, she truly did not mind underhanded actions to keep the murderous young woman at bay.

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Seeing her kids wash themselves off with the fresh water made from defrosted snow, soaking away the staining blood over their bodies was much less of a shock than it had been a few days ago. She had prepared for the sight when they had first bowed to the queen, accepting that they were her weapons. But it hadn't been easy seeing Jesse first wash herself up after cutting into Emerson's arm. Jesse had soaked up some soap water and had wiped away the river of blood that had fallen onto her right arm. There had been no emotion on Jesse's face. Even when she first had walked away from the panting and shaking, whimpering Emerson who's left arm looked like a butchered animal's body, even while the guards saw to it to make sure he didn't bleed to death.

Clarke, that day hadn't said anything. She hadn't thrown any judgment out. How could she? She was in no place to judge, was she? The next days that had followed were torrents of intensity, anger and sadism. Clarke could pretend that it was anything else, but she'd be honest with herself. She knew what this all was. The twenty-six were taking their anger out on the one that had hurt their friend, leader and family. And part of it, Clarke was sure was out of guilt. Because they hadn't been there at the mountain when Emerson had done what he had done. Maybe they thought that if they had been there, things would have been different. Clarke was just grateful that they hadn't been. So they hadn't seen what she had done at the time. And that they hadn't gotten caught in the crossfire.

But she saw the look each of the kids had on their faces when they were done cutting into their "punching bag," Emerson. These were looks of satisfaction, sure. But there was something else. A pain that would be sparked in their eyes as they left the cell where Emerson was tied up, bleeding.

The two toes on Emerson's right foot that Cody cut off, the four teeth that Mario, Kristin, West and Finley took turns ripping out of Emerson's mouth, the chunks of meat cut away from Emerson's left leg by Glenn and Paul's hands, the slashes across Emerson's cheek at the hand of Edmund's steady left arm, the slab of flesh that David stripped off of Emerson's chest with a hook and a thin, peeling blade, the skin and meat cut away from his right arm by Bobbi's hand, the stab wound into his knee continually by Casey's hand, the removal of Emerson's earlobes by Cameron, the cutting away of his left heel and the slicing away most of the bottom of his left foot at Beryl's hand, the stabbing multiple times into Emerson's right shoulder by Frank's hand, the removal of Emerson's left breast by Avery's hand, the stripping away of skin, flesh and tendons by Simone and Parker who took turns cutting, it all was just a way of them feeling like they were giving Emerson not just what he deserved, but what they felt they should have done-that they should have been there that day at the mountain.

It was grief for what had happened. Even though Clarke hadn't physically died.

Even the calmest amongst the kids, Blair, Beryl, Cameron, Glenn, Martin and the like took their anger out on him. Martin had been the most surprising of them. When he had come out of the dark one night in the dungeon, his face had been unreadable, his dark eyes burning with hungry fire and he demanded the opportunity to remove some of Emerson's flesh, Clarke of course agreed and Martin had taken one of the knives hanging from the wall of the dungeon. He had slipped through the opened barred door and walked to the writhing, groaning Emerson. Martin had quickly and with expert skill slashed away the muscle and flesh of the last Mountain Man's right leg, almost taking away all of Emerson's calf.

Martin, after he was done, walked away, getting out of the barred cell as the servants tended to Emerson's wound. Martin had been covered in blood from the slashed leg. He had turned to Clarke and the others, a dark grin across his face. He spoke calmly, his usually well-kept dark brown hair matted, _"He owes you all his blood, Clarke. I'm just spilling it like he deserves to have it spilled."_

Clarke watched from her wooden bench that was up against the dungeon wall, where Sabine, Blair and Christopher were washing their arms and hands off. The guards were tending to Emerson who had been reduced now to tears. His body was almost a pitiful, broken, bruised and slashed up thing. The number of stiches and bandages that went into making sure he did not die would shock even the most seasoned warrior. It was one thing to have these wounds after a few months in the dungeons. But after only a few days? Even the queen's greatest generals besides her daughter, Clarke, some of the twenty-six, like the recently deceased Rokren and Wynarlow and the still regrettably living, loyal Carno, Peklo and Kavow would be impressed.

He quite frankly looked like Frankenstein's monster.

The three teenagers dried up their arms with the strips of fur laid out on the dungeon floor for them after they were done washing up. Sabine was the first to get up, tossing the piece of fur down onto another bench for when one of the guards was to come get it. Clarke got up as Sabine got close. "Done with your therapy?" She asked curiously. Sabine snorted. "Don't tell me it doesn't feel good to see us do stuff like that to him?" Sabine snickered at where Christopher and Blair gradually got up from the floor, wiping themselves off. "He has to be one of the few people we've cut up here that actually deserves what he's getting." Clarke smiled grimly. Well, Sabine wasn't wrong about that.

She watched as the now broken Emerson looked at her through glossed over, pained, exhausted eyes. He didn't even have the strength to glare at her anymore. Clarke could feel the small bits of lingering pity in her chest for the now miserable man. The phrase, "How the mighty have fallen" didn't even come close to describing the state Emerson was in compared to who he had been originally before she had killed his family. The comparison was horrifying at best. A part of Clarke almost wanted to apologize to him for all he had been through. But she knew that wouldn't last. Any pity would be stomped out soon by the uncontrollable giants of rage, pain, grief, guilt, shame and remorse. What Emerson had done to her, to her people had inflicted far too big a gaping wound for it to be healed by anything even remotely resembling sympathy.

It was over for Emerson. And it wouldn't be quick.

Clarke just wished her family didn't have to be the ones to bear it with her, even if they had all too vehemently volunteered for it.

Christopher approached, limping with his bad leg, sheathing his now dry and bloodless, razor sharp dagger back into his belt. He smiled, brown beard not obscuring the arrogance in it at all. "Man, that guy sure knows how to scream, even when he has a gag in." Clarke sighed, smirking. She wished she could be repulsed by such words. But she wasn't. She and the others were far too used to everything violent here. "I think we've figured that out by now." Clarke answered. "Now come on, dinner will be ready and the others will be wondering where we are."

Christopher nodded and Blair gave her small answer of agreement. The three of them began to move out of the hall. It was really strange how normal this was. Torture was becoming so normal for them that Clarke knew now that they were all monsters. They couldn't differentiate themselves from the Azgeda. They had just immersed themselves completely. This was the norm for them, damaged as they were.

The four of them reached the court where everyone was being seated to eat. As soon as the four of them got to the podium where the queen sat, the four of them bowed in acknowledgement, before getting up, turning to their intended table. It was then that something unexpected happened. Something that made Clarke's heart speed up for once in the many weeks of becoming numb and jaded in this land of murder and torture. The queen's voice shot out in a command, "Klark, come speak with me in my main chambers." Clarke turned around, body stiffened at this. The queen gestured towards the side room that would lead to a smaller, but far fancier room than this one. Where the queen wouldn't be watching peoples' every move and could eat privately. Clarke's heart skipped a beat at this, wondering if the queen had suspected something. She heard Blair gasp next to her, not helping Clarke's already unsettled state. Clarke's eyes then jumped to Ontari.

The other young woman's face was what instantly calmed Clarke at least a little. Ontari did not appear frightened or worried at all. She looked amused. She had a small smirk on her lips and was looking at her mother with what Clarke could only assume was aggravation. If Ontari was acting this nonchalant about the matter of Nia trying to speak with her, then Clarke wondered if she had anything to worry about at all.

She mentally kicked herself for such a thought. It was Nia. Everything with this woman was a veiled threat, an implied blade to the throat, an intimidation tactic, an act of manipulation. Even the smallest thing like eating together. She couldn't let her guard down under any circumstances. Nia walked to the end of the front step of the platform, starting to walk towards the steps in the direction of the door. "Klark?" Nia asked, voice laced in a troubling amount of humor, won't you join me?" Clarke turned to look at Ontari again. Her Ontari was still as calm as before. The raven-haired woman was looking at her mother like the older was pulling a joke that was old and tiring. Clarke slowly turned to Christopher, Sabine and Blair and whispered to them gently, "Don't freak out. Stay with the others, understand? That's an order."

She saw how tightly drawn Christopher's body was. Like despite being surrounded by guards and there more than likely being massive consequences for raising a hand to the queen, Christopher was clearly just itching to reach for his sword or his ax. Sabine's hands were troublingly close to her short double swords. Clarke shook her head at them. "No." She ordered. She looked down at Blair who glanced only once at her back where her quiver of arrows and her bow were. At her side was Blair's short sword.

She shook her head at the younger. Blair understood Clarke's gaze and the younger girl's body lessened in its tenseness. Clarke turned back around to face the queen, knowing no good would come out of denying Nia's "request." "Of course, your majesty." Clarke answered. "I'm honored that you would request my presence. I will join you in a moment. I need food though." The queen chuckled, shaking her head. "No need to worry, Wanheda. The servants will bring you your food when we're seated. Now, follow me if you don't mind." Clarke turned towards the queen and nodded. "I understand, your majesty." She began walking towards where Nia was, watching as the older started to walk to the door. She glanced to Ontari who seeming to be speaking to Clarke with her eyes, _It's going to be alright. Don't worry._

Clarke took a careful glance over her left shoulder at Sabine, Blair and Christopher. The three teenagers were still tense but seemed to gradually shift towards the table where the others were sitting. From where they sat, every last one of the twenty-six looked ready to spring up and grab their weapons, watching Clarke with fear and apprehension in their eyes. Clarke reassured herself that they'd be fine. Finley, West, Paul, Glenn, Mario and Kristin would keep all of them in line. If not, Ontari would watch over them. Christopher, Sabine and Blair went back to the table. Parker nearly shot straight up, but both Simone and West kept their hands on her shoulders to keep her seated.

That relieved Clarke to watch. She glanced further and her heart almost lurched when she saw Farron next to Linden, Lane, Kadin, Faye and Zane. All of the kids looked like they wanted to run over and help, but each of them had a hand from the older twenty-six kids on them, keeping them from coming over. Thankfully Farron was being held back by Mario and Kristin. Clarke turned back to the queen and followed with more confidence than before. When the queen went through the door and turned, gesturing for Clarke to come in, Clarke breathed out deeply and walked through the doorway as the queen closed it behind her.

Clarke stiffly moved to the wooden table in the middle of the room as Nia gestured for her to do. She sat down into the leather covered, wooden chair on one side of the table. It was across from another chair. There was a large fire stoked in the stone fireplace behind that chair. The table and chairs stood on the furry back of a large grizzly bear pelt. Above the fireplace was a round, wooden shield with metal lines running through it. There was a crest emblazoned in the middle of the top of the shield. The crest was white and looked to have a couple of black symbols on it. One seemed to be in the shape of a running, black dog, the other an eagle with outstretched wings.

The crest nearly made Clarke laugh. Nearly. She knew the story that Ontari had told her. The same one that Ontari's mother had fed her. Nia believed that her line was of royal blood. That likely wasn't true. Even before the bombs hit, people, unless they had a blood test done, more that probably didn't know what their ancestry was. The only clue would be some of the physical appearances that they would have and that wouldn't be much to go on. But now? In a time where there weren't even blood tests, when many Grounders didn't even know what blood tests were? It was highly unlikely that Nia and her son were descended from any royal line. Nia moved to the seat right with the fire at her back and Clarke sat down into the seat across from it, her white and grey furs already providing quite the cushion for Clarke. But as soon as she sat in the chair, she found it incredibly soft and padded.

"You obviously wished to speak with me about something of importance." Clarke said. "So, please tell me what it is that I can help with, your majesty." Nia chuckled, smirking, eyes showing no concern over Clarke's insistence. "Oh no, Klark. It is not about something you can help _me_ with. It's something I perhaps can help _you_ with." Clarke raised her head, her eyebrows narrowing. What did the queen mean by that? "My apologies, your majesty." Clarke said quietly, "I'm afraid I don't understand." The queen's smile widened as she leaned back against the chair. "I think I can help you ensure the protection of your people in the Trikru's territory." Clarke froze, eyes widening. The orange firelight danced around the corners of the room, accentuating shadows and making the seated shadow of Nia seem to grow to near threatening size.

As if the queen needed to appear any more a threat.

"I'm not sure I understand." Clarke said, not finding her voice coming out confidently, as it usually didn't when the queen discussed her people in the Trikru's territory. The twenty-six and the orphans they had taken in were one thing. They were right here and under the queen's nose and they had proven themselves time and again that they would not disobey her. At least in the queen's eyes. As she had no knowledge of the rebellion going on behind her back. And what was more, Clarke was here with them. She could be here at their side when the scarring and the trauma happened. Or when they got back from their missions. But the others? The ones in the Trikru's territory? They were a problem. Because they weren't here where the queen could watch them. Clarke had always had a feeling that this would happen eventually.

"What about them?" Clarke asked cautiously, trying to ignore how tense her muscles suddenly were now. The queen smirked and there was a sudden knock on the wooden door, making Clarke turn to the entryway cautiously. Nia growled softly before calling out in a harsh tone, "Come in! And hurry up." The door creaked open and one by one, five different servants came in, all carrying different items. One of them was carrying two metal goblets, one was carrying two pitchers, one in each hand by the handles, two were carrying two plates of food, one held in each hand and the last was holding two pieces of silverware in each hand. The many plates of small different dishes were put out along the table. The silverware was put down next to the plates. One was placed in front of Nia, the other in front of Clarke. One metal pitcher was put down in the middle of the table and Clarke knew that one was filled with water. The other was filled with wine. The servant holding the glass pitcher with the dark wine, looked at the queen in question. The queen nodded.

The servant poured the wine into Nia's metal goblet and did the same to Clarke's goblet. They then turned to the queen who gestured for them to take their leave. The servants all bowed their heads and bid the queen and then Wanheda their farewells and left, closing the door behind them. When the door closed with a clang, the frustrated Clarke, who had been tense the whole time and had almost wanted to scream at not getting any answers from the queen about her people in the Trikru territory, let out a small breath and restrained a glare as the queen took the wine goblet and took a sip from it.

The queen put the goblet down and said, looking at Clarke again, "As I was saying, your people in the Trikru's territory are in a bit of a problem, don't you think? They are not part of the Coalition. And they are in no tribe but their own. They are unprotected. Any tribe could attack and slaughter them just because they can and the Commander would not avenge them." Each word the queen spoke made more fear and dread creep into Clarke's belly. Her hands balled into fists on her lap, unable to help herself. The queen was speaking the truth. She knew much more about the laws of the coalition and of the tribes than she had ten months ago when she and Wells had first been brought to Polis. But hearing the queen acknowledge this sounded more and more like impending doom for her people in the Trikru's land.

"And how are you saying you will help me?" Clarke got out, her voice barely coming out as a weak breath. The queen kept smirking, apparently hearing the younger. She leaned forward and grabbed her fork and knife, beginning to cut at her slab of muskox meat. "Your people are in the Trikru's territory. And the Trikru have proved themselves untrustworthy. The Commander herself is untrustworthy, as you well know. Your people in that territory have nothing to gain by being there, but have much to gain being here in Azgeda territory." The queen finally lifted her head and met Clarke's shocked gaze. "Do you understand now, Klark?"

It took a moment for her to comprehend, but Clarke understood. The queen wanted the 100 and the rest of the Ark people in the Trikru's territory to "move in" with the Azgeda.

But the horror soon accompanied the shock and the confusion. An icy chill shot through Clarke as she understood completely then. The queen was offering protection from the Trikru and any other tribe that tried to attack the 100 and the other Sky people in that land, but for a price. They had to obey the queen's every command. The queen wasn't just offering protection. She _wanted_ something. Like she always did. The queen of Azgeda wanted yet another army. An army of the sky.

She wanted to control the other sky people and the 100.

Clarke tried to ignore the millions of icy fingers clawing along her spine at her thoughts running through her head.

Her mother. Wells. Bellamy. Raven. Octavia. Finn. Charlotte. Monty. Kane. Monroe. Sterling. Harper. Fox. Jones. Miller. The rest of the kids. The queen wanted them under her control. Under her thumb. She would offer them protection, only to put her own collar on them. Clarke forced down a shudder. Disturbingly, she could predict how that likely would end. Octavia was too hotheaded to listen to anyone who wasn't Trikru or one of the 100. So she would likely get herself killed. And it wouldn't be quick. For it, Bellamy would retaliate and be tortured to death. Lincoln too, since he wouldn't go anywhere without Octavia and would also likely have tried to avenge her. The others? They'd fall in line after that. Raven and Monty would be exploited for their abilities to win battles with bombs and machines. Her mother would be too for her healing abilities. Fox, Harper and Sterling? They probably would be killed for not being good enough in training. For a moment, Clarke was almost grateful for Jasper already being dead. He would have been killed immediately for being considered "weak" in the Azgeda's eyes.

Somehow, Clarke kept her panic contained and leaned back against her seat, breath forced out in an even pattern. "I see." She said, acting like she was taking this deeply under consideration. "They of course would be your warriors and in return they would have your protection?" The queen grinned, holding her arms open in display of being pleased. "I knew you'd understand, Wanheda. Yes. I would like your people to come here. where they will be safe from attacks from other tribes." The queen lowered her arms to the table, resting her hands there. "And in return, your people will provide me with knowledge and strength. Your people proved to be stronger than the coalition first thought them to be. There are many stories of your people fighting the Trikru before the ring of fire consumed Onya's warriors." Clarke couldn't even feel a spark of anger at the mention of Anya's name with all the cruel and unyielding disturbed tendrils of panic writhing around everywhere inside her.

She ignored it and her voice came out almost strained as a question popped into Clarke's mind before she could help it, "Out of curiosity, my kwin, aren't the twenty-six enough? They have already proven to be great warriors and generals." Clarke instantly regretted her question, even before the queen looked at her curiously. This had to have appeared at least a little suspicious to the queen. The queen smiled, to Clarke's surprise. "Tell me, Klark," The queen said, "Has Ontari told you the history of my family?" Clarke swallowed, having a feeling that this was heading into a heavy part of the queen's ruthlessness. She nodded, recalling Ontari's story of her mother's family well.

The queen nodded. "Then you understand that that is why. I will not any possible subject that could be under my control escape. They will be treated well, as long as they obey while they are here. I promise you that, Wanheda."

Clarke's chest, stomach and jaw were tight. The squirming, dark panic remained. Then the worst thing that could have occurred kicked in. Logic. Logic kicked in.

Was the queen right? True, the queen could _not_ stay in power. She would have to be dethroned sooner rather than later. It would be safer for everyone that way. No one was safe while Nia was queen or even alive. But was she right about the 100 and the other Ark people moving into the Azgeda's territory? No matter how Clarke thought about it, the idea of the 100 and the rest of the Ark people remaining in the Trikru's territory didn't seem like a safe idea. Nothing had happened to her people there yet, otherwise Nia's scouts would have heard about it and would have informed Clarke on Nia's orders. If not, Clarke's spies lurking around the Ice Nation would bring back this news from those scouts and tell Clarke herself. But how long would that last?

How long _could_ such a thing last? The 100 and the rest of the Ark people didn't have the coalition's protection. The Commander proved how untrustworthy she was at the mountain, so it was unlikely that she would stick her neck out for anyone. Goodness knew that she was too much of a coward around her council in Polis to do such a thing. So that left the question, how would her people in the Trikru territory be safe? The answer was simple. They wouldn't be.

Unless they changed locations. Unless they became part of a tribe that was already in the coalition.

Integration. One group becoming part of another group. Two groups or more becoming one. That's what the queen was saying she wanted the sky people in the Trikru's land to do. Come to the Azgeda's territory and join them.

And the queen already had an incentive to keep them safe. So as to keep Wanheda's loyalty cemented. Everything about the queen's proposal sounded perfect, actually. Clarke knew that if she went along with this, it would be better if she wrote the letters inviting the Sky people here. Although, given the 100 and the Ark peoples' feelings about Grounders, there was a question of if they would listen to her. Especially after she had left them and the Commander had betrayed them at the mountain.

The only conflicts would be how the 100 and the other Ark people would get here, and the queen and her followers still being alive by the time they got here. Clarke's lips tightened as her mind started searching for answers. The marriage between her and Ontari was not supposed to be for another eight months. But if she really wanted to keep her people, all of her people safe, then she had to speed the clock up. The 100 and the rest of the Ark people needed protection from a rightful ruler of Azgeda. And a marriage between Clarke and Ontari, the queen's heir would be binding. No one would question it. The queen had officially named Ontari heir, and Clarke would be married to the said heir. But the queen could not be in the way.

"I must say, your majesty." Clarke said, admittedly impressed by the queen's way of thinking, "That's brilliantly planned." The queen nodded, finally cutting away a piece of meat and snatching it off the tongs of her fork with her mouth. "I'm so pleased you approve, Wanheda." She said between bites. No Grounder, common or otherwise would think much of speaking between chewing like people in the old days might have. No one nowadays except for Ark people would think of that as uncouth. That was a "polite" way of living that had died out and only lasted on the Ark.

"I do have one question though, your majesty." Clarke said quietly, looking at the monarch. "How would they be brought here? And if they were to refuse your offer, would you hurt them?" Clarke knew she was treading on dangerous territory by asking this, since this could be seen as a type of defiance. But she had to know. She had to know if her people were going to be threatened or harmed in any way. The queen's eyebrows shot up and her eyes met Clarke's. "I plan to send boats out for all of them. To bring them here." The queen answered, no hint in her voice that she took offense to Clarke's words. "And as of what will happen should they refuse? Well, I can't imagine that they wouldn't accept an offer of protection. But if they refuse? I don't suppose it would be in my best interests to force them to come here. As I said, I have heard of their actions. The bridge in the Trikru territory before your army and Onya's army fought, the ring of fire. The curing of the ripas. Your people in the Trikru maybe more trouble than they are worth. I will have my warriors take those who are willing back to the Azgeda. Anyone else who is foolish enough to stay in Trikru territory may."

Clarke clenched her teeth together to hold back the snort. Oh sure, like she'd believe _that_. The queen was as likely to respect her peoples' decisions to stay in Trikru land as a bear was to pass up a perfectly good hunk of meat lying prone in the snow bloody. It just wouldn't happen. That just wasn't likely. The queen spoke again. "I don't know why they wouldn't take such an offer. Protection, which the Commander would never give them? I imagine this would be a great offering for them."

Clarke offered, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, "If you don't mind the finger freezing off cold." The queen thankfully chuckled. "Well, there's that, yes. But I imagine that you will inform them of how to properly protect against the cold and how to light fires here." Clarke nodded. "I'll take responsibility for them." She answered, thinking about it appearing that she would take them under her wing as their mentor while the queen would be the head of the nation, instead of the truth which would be by the time any more sky people came here, the queen would be dead.

A thought came to Clarke's mind. "Won't Azgeda warriors offering to escort the sky people to Azgeda attract the Commander's attention?" Clarke asked, eyebrows going up in emphasis. The queen nodded. "That it will. This is where my son, Roan will come in. I believe my daughter has already told you what the plan is? To take over Polis and put you and Ontari as the figureheads of the center of the coalition after Heda is killed by my son."

The words chilled Clarke. She had known these plans for four months now thanks to Ontari. But hearing the queen admit them was practically mind-blowing. She managed a nod. "Yes, she's told me all of this. And you are going to invite the sky people here after Ontari and I are to be married?" Nia shook her head. "Not quite. I would like the Skaikru to know that I am offering a safe place for them. I want them to know me as their queen first before they learn that you and Ontari are to be married. I suppose you could say I would like them to get used to it here. And the easier way for them to do that is if they know you as their friend again and realize you are to be their ruler later on." Clarke tried not to smirk. Again, that was fairly clever. Twisted as it was, it made sense. It would help those that came, whether willing or not, adapt to their new society. To have someone who was familiar be here first and help them survive in it. Of course, that was only if they didn't see her as a traitor.

They probably already did for her leaving them.

Clarke's eyes shot away from the food, not feeling hungry anymore. Pain flooded her chest. She heard a sigh across from her. "I did not mean for you to remember something painful, Klark. I would like you to know that you will gain a great deal from this too. The throne. Polis itself. Ontari. You already have her heart, I believe. Armies. And as I'm sure you've also gathered, you will have revenge." The way the queen said the word, practically chuckling it out, made Clarke think that it was being treated like a favorite joke between the two of them. And at this point, Clarke couldn't help but wonder if it was.

She turned back to Nia, thinking about the "revenge" part of what the queen had said.

Revenge. Revenge against Anya and Lexa. It would be quite the revenge, wouldn't it? For Lexa and Anya, her two former lovers who had abandoned her at the mountain and left her people for death to find that their once trusting to be wife was now an Azgeda citizen. And the wife of the Ice Queen's heir herself. And then there would be the eventual implications that Anya and Lexa were to die.

Not that Clarke would allow that, whatever her severed relationship with them would be now. But to see the looks on their faces when it all played out. To see the shock, the pain, the horror, the anger, the betrayal. It would be worth it. If only for psychological effects instead of actually killing the two of them. Clarke couldn't hold back a smirk at the thought before she could really help herself. The queen chuckled. "There. I thought that might make you happy. Now as for another piece of information, one that I think will convince you far even more that your at one time lovers deserve everything they are going to get, I would like to discuss something you shared with Ontari three months ago."

Clarke stiffened, cautious once again. The queen hadn't suspected- no, there was no question that she didn't.

If she did, Clarke would have had at least a few fingers taken off, to name a few other tortures done to her. Clarke looked at the queen in question, hoping the woman had not even remotely suspected anything. The queen spoke again, "You might want to take a few sips of wine before hearing this." Clarke frowned, looking down at her goblet and looked back at the queen. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, my kwin. If I'm to hear something that sounds very dire, then I should hear it with a perfectly clear mind." The queen smirked. "As sharp as always." The queen said in approval. "Very well. As I understand it, when you first met Onya at the bridge, she told you that your people burned down a village with some 'flares.' Is this true?"

Clarke nodded, fighting the sorrow at the memory, her guilt still plaguing her. She had kept it from her people, hoping they wouldn't find out. She hadn't wanted them to live with such guilt. She hadn't wanted them to know that they were all responsible for the deaths of who knew how many in this village Anya had spoken of. Only Wells knew about it. And she had made him promise never to tell any of the other 100. Not ever.

"I see." The queen said quietly, frowning as she seemed to be lost in thought. "Where was this village located? Did Onya tell you?" Clarke furrowed her eyebrows, confused. Where was the queen going with this? "Um, yes." She answered after a few moments hesitation. Twenty miles from where the 100 and I landed. Thirty miles from Mount Weather." The queen nodded, frowning again. "Eat some of your food, Klark." The queen ordered. "You should eat before I tell you what's going on." Clarke could tell this was an order, not a suggestion. She fought a sigh. There was no choice, not unless she wanted to appear defiant. She removed her clenched hands from her lap and grabbed her fork and knife, cutting at her muskox as the queen got up from the table, walking to the right of her, going to the maps of the different tribe territories in what used to be North America, South America and Europe.

Clarke watched Nia go over to the yellowed map across the wall of North America. Clarke gathered, as she ate some of the meat that the queen was looking at what used to be Virginia and what used to be North Carolina. Part of the Trikru's vast territory. What the queen was looking for exactly in that territory, Clarke didn't know. She was guessing the woman was trying to find the location of where that village was. The queen turned back to Clarke. "Did Onya tell you the name of this village, Klark?" The woman asked. Clarke nodded, eating more of the meat. After she swallowed, she answered, "Anya said it was called 'Deyorele.'"

The queen paused and turned back to the map, searching. Clarke had seen these maps before when the queen would speak with her and Ontari together. These maps had every single name of the villages in the different territories. Clarke had never looked for Deyorele because even though she had known that she deserved the guilt, she didn't want to revisit that memory. After a few minutes, when Clarke had almost finished most of her muskox, the queen spoke again. "Clarke, please come here." Clarke frowned, weirded out. Since when did the queen say 'please' for anything? She dropped her fork and knife to the table and got up from the table.

She walked over to where the queen stood, standing by the older woman's side and looking at the map. "Tell me what you see on this map? In the location that Onya said the village, Deyorele was located?" Clarke's frown deepened. Now she was even more confused. But she did as instructed. She knew better than to outright disobey. Her eyes scanned the map, going to where in Azgedasleng, "The Mountain" was labeled. Her eyes lowered a little. Then further. Clarke's eyes narrowed, now becoming completely stumped. The next village over besides Polis was all the way in the beginning of what used to be Tennessee. Clarke felt like alarm bells were going off, but she tried to ignore them. The town labeled there on the state that had once been Tennessee was labeled "Rovat," not Deyorele. Even if it was, there was no way those flares could have reached that town from that distance.

Had they been wrong about the direction in which the flares had gone? Had the flares gone further North of where she and the other 100 landed instead of South or West? Her eyes started to search downwards, then upwards. All through the Southern part of the Trikru territory and all through the North Eastern part that almost touched the Floukru's territory, she looked. And she could not find Deyorele. What the hell was going on here? She frowned, looking at the queen who for once in Clarke's time of knowing the woman, appeared pitying almost. It made Clarke angry, but she was so frustrated by what was happening that she didn't even care. "I'm sorry, my kwin," Clarke said, controlling herself from allowing any anger into her tone, "I don't think I understand."

The queen nodded and turned back to the map. "Klark," The queen said simply, "Deyorele was the name of one of the first villages ever created after the bombs hit. Supposedly it was eighty-seven years ago. It was burned down by rival groups who didn't want to accept the new culture and the new way of things. And this village never was built up again. And it wasn't in the territory where Onya told you it was. It was originally over here, according to stories." The queen reached out and pointed up at the map, all the way in the upper western part of the map, right where the state that used to be Montana was. In what today was now considered the Boudalankru territory.

Clarke's slow and weak gasp came out before she could even think to stop it. She stepped back from the map, breath coming out weakly. The queen dropped her arm to her side. Clarke was trying to concentrate on anything, anything at all that might distract her. Despite the metaphorical knife to her and her peoples' throats, Clarke wanted to call the queen a liar. But she just couldn't. Why lie? The queen already had Clarke's agreements in all of this. And she even had Clarke doing what she had wanted her to do all along-enjoy her torturing of another person. Desiring revenge was nothing the queen wasn't used to seeing in Clarke for the past eight days. So why lie?

Besides, an even more telling and chilling fact reminded Clarke, Ontari had appeared incredibly suspicious when Clarke had told her about a village in the Trikru territory that she and her people had accidentally burned down called "Deyorele."

Clarke found the shock becoming too much for her to handle. Her mind went spinning. Everything that Lexa and Anya ever told her was a lie. Everything. Was anything they told her the truth? Did they ever mean anything they said? Did _she_ ever mean anything to them? To either of them? Had it all just been a game to them? Had she just been a pawn to them? That village, the one that she thought her people had burned down with those flares had never existed? If that was true, then she had spent months and months before Ton DC, hating herself for nothing. But when she had been to Polis…

Clarke found all the months she had spent willing herself not to cry failing. Her vision became hot and blurry. There was just no way. Had everything that Lexa and Anya told her in Polis about that village, about all the people there dying or fleeing to other villages been total lies? Everything? Clarke's jaw was clamped shut as the tears poured against her will, staring at the floor, agony wracking her. There was only one question that remained in her mind now. Did they ever love her? Ever? She heard a sigh next to her. "I _am_ sorry." Clarke slowly turned and glimpsed out at the queen who was shaking her head. "Not that I don't think it was brilliant on the Commander's part, but I am sorry that you are going through this. This is why one should never love. Those that you love? They will only hurt you. Whether its intentionally or unintentionally, they will always break your heart. So you are better off not letting anyone in."

Clarke's mouth dropped a little as she understood. This was a lesson. There might not have been any dramatic speeches about what a leader was supposed to be, but here it was. A lesson about keeping people out of your heart. Though the queen had successfully turned her and her family into murder dogs, if only temporarily, there had been a great deal of lacking in the discussions about the heart. For that, Clarke had almost been grateful even though she had assumed it was because the queen didn't care. But this was unexpected. Incredibly unexpected. The queen looked back at the map. "Ontari has told you about my family history. Did she tell you about Roan's father?"

Clarke stiffened, wiping her tears away, feeling her throat hurting. But she nodded. Aldo. Roan's father and Nia's husband. And if anything Nia told Ontari was true, he had also been Nia's abuser.

If anything Nia told Ontari about her abuse was true, then that would explain a lot about the queen.

The queen held her head high and said, "I did what I needed to so I could make sure that man never raised a hand to me again. It wasn't just physically making sure he never did it again. It was my heart. It was infected. Weak. Because despite all he had done, what I knew he could do to my baby son, I loved him at the time." Clarke stared at the queen, feeling her mouth drop more. To hear the queen say this, even if it might be a lie, was a little shocking to hear. She had never heard the queen say she loved anyone. She doubted anyone, not even Ontari had. This had to be a trick.

The queen continued, "I did what I had to in order to make sure that no one could have that control over my heart again. I made myself a fortress. I killed the people I loved, all so I could destroy any lingering feelings I had. When I decided it was time to execute Roan, after I discovered Ontari and decided she was to be my heir, I couldn't do it. So I exiled him instead." Clarke felt like she had been floored when the queen told her that. No way. This had to be a lie. It was all a lie. The queen never loved her son. She never loved either of her children. "I thought you exiled him because-" She started, but the queen cut her off.

"Oh, because of that?" The queen asked, snorting, "I knew what he would do that day, years ago. But I never stopped him. Mostly because anything he did would do no good. I had the guards watch him. But I realized it was the perfect opportunity. To brand him a traitor and exile him. You think I did that to him because he betrayed me? No. I did that to him so that he would be safe from me." Clarke couldn't quite wrap her brain around what she had just heard. Was any of this true? Did Ontari know? Was the queen trying to trick her? Trying to garner her sympathy for some reason? What did the queen gain by doing this?

The queen chuckled, smiling grimly, "You don't have to believe me. There are times I've wondered myself if I ever loved at all. But I've passed these lessons onto my strongest heir, Ontari. And she took to them. She has never looked at anyone like they have a hold on her heart. Until you."

Clarke lifted her gaze to the queen who shrugged, her smirk returning. "I'm not going to judge my daughter. I've tried to teach her to stamp out her feelings. Emotions are dangerous. But I think I've known since she helped you with that fever that Blare was going through that her feelings for you would be inevitable. I will not judge Ontari for that. But I will say this. Her feelings will cause her judgment to lack in sharpness. As your own I'm sure has." The queen turned back to Clarke, smirking. "I'm sure your judgment lacked quite a bit when you were still the entarg of the Heda and Onya. It _is_ why you were foolish enough to believe them and trust them not to betray you, am I right?"

Clarke choked on the pain in her throat. She wanted to be outraged by such words. But the queen was right. She had never thought even once that Anya and Lexa would betray her at the mountain. She hadn't thought it possible. And she had foolishly believed their every word about this village "Deyorele" that she had her people had supposedly destroyed and she had hung onto their every word as they described it. They had been describing to her a village that had been destroyed decades ago and were using it to guilt her and her people into doing what they wanted her to do.

It was a disgusting realization. But the queen was right. About everything. At least when it came to her farce of a relationship with Lexa and Anya, Nia was right absolutely. Her love had blinded her. As it had when she had been with Finn. She had rushed into that relationship so quickly. She hadn't even given thought to the possibility that Finn might have a girlfriend back on the Ark. And she hadn't even questioned anything when she and Finn had begun to sleep together. She would never believe that love was a weakness. She couldn't believe that. Love was the only thing that had kept her alive since the Azgeda had brought her here. Her protectiveness of the twenty-six and over Farron, Linden, Lane, the other kids and the people she had come to see as her own people here was what kept her going. If she didn't love them, then she would have died a long time ago.

Love could never be a weakness in her eyes. But it _did_ cause problems. And it had almost gotten her people killed before. It might not have been a weakness, but it _was_ dangerous.

That's when a horrible question slithered into her mind. It was just one thought, one that only appeared for a moment, but it made its brutal imprint. She, Wells and Anya had escaped the mountain together and gotten to Polis. They had told Lexa that their bone marrow was what the Mountain Men wanted. The horrible question repeated itself in the echoes of Clarke's mind, demanding an answer.

Had _Lexa_ been the one that made the deal with Emerson? Had Lexa been the one to offer up Clarke's people in return for leaving her own people alone? Had Lexa gotten into a relationship with Clarke specifically to get Clarke to trust her? So as to basically _hand_ over the rest of Clarke's people that were taken by the mountain at the battle? Leaving her people to die after getting her own people back…had the commander only gotten involved with Clarke and encouraged Anya to pursue her so as to lead Clarke on, deceive her?

Clarke felt anguish and despair fill every inch of her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Had any of it been real? Had the Commander just been toying with her from the beginning? Had she gotten into a relationship with her only to hand her people over to Cage and Dante? Had everything, their talks, their relationship, their supposed "love," had it all been a lie? Every last bit of it? Anya and Lexa must have discussed it before beginning to pursue her. Clarke's teeth clenched, pain riddling her body. It had all been a lie. The relationship. The vows of love. The promises of protection. Everything. It had all been to deliver the bone marrow to the Mountain Men.

Every moment spent with Lexa and Anya had been a trick. A trap to lure Clarke's people to the mountain and hand the bone marrow over to the Mountain Men.

Clarke's pain was a sentient, living thing, much like her anger was. She could feel these two writhing, internal entities just begging to break out and slash and hurt and lash and skin and to burn. Everything hurt. She wanted something or someone else to hurt too. She _had_ to hurt something else or she would explode.

Clarke heaved out, eyes snapping opening with the gaze of ice, intense as she regarded the queen, "I will write letters to my people and ask for them to come here. I will tell them the conditions. They might not listen unless the instructions are from me. But I want to kill Emerson. Now." Clarke knew that the queen could detect the bloodlust in her voice. She watched as the queen's eyes widened. Her lips quirked up, just a hint of satisfaction. "I'd like to, Wanheda," The queen answered, "But I thought your Seconds wanted to torture the Mountain Man more. Are you really going to kill him quickly?" Clarke knew that the queen was testing her, but she didn't care at that moment. A harsh and sharp, broken laugh ripped from Clarke's throat, her head thrown back, shoulders shaking, the laugh escaping her before she could even think about it.

She could almost feel the queen's startled gaze on her. Clarke knew that she must have looked like a lunatic at that moment, but she didn't care. She was going to make this point clear to the queen. Emerson was to die today for this injury. Though he was not responsible, Lexa and Anya were, he was involved. He was the one that proved to her who Anya and Lexa really were. And the cause of her pain or not, he would suffer for offering that deal to Lexa in the first place. Or taking it, assuming Clarke's new suspicion about Lexa and Anya was right, which it likely was.

She faced the queen, her savage grin matching Nia's usual ones, though no such grin was on the queen's stunned face. "Who said I was going to kill him quickly? I want to cut away his skin, your majesty. If you'll let me. He will suffer for causing harm to my people. And he will suffer slowly. And then I wish to cut his heart out of his chest." The queen cocked her head, lips still upwards in curiosity. She stared at Clarke, as if fascinated. Clarke watched the way the queen was staring at her and realized the older was trying to get a read on her. She knew that the queen would find no falseness in her anger and desire to kill.

There was no mercy in her right now.

The queen had no reason to doubt her at all tonight. The queen was clearly seeing this. The queen's mouth dropped slightly and her head lifted, her eyes widened. Then satisfaction began to spark in the queen's eyes. Clarke recognized that predatory glint in the queen's eyes. The queen had gotten the message. Wanheda was not playing around.

"Very well." The queen said, now smirking. "So you wish to subject the last Mountain Man to the 'Helrer.' I'll admit, even after all this time, I never thought that you of all people would be the one to wish to administer it." The queen chuckled, "I must say, Klark, you are full of surprises." Clarke didn't smirk, didn't roll her eyes, didn't do anything except glower and grimace, barely holding back the tears that threatened to fall still. "Helrer," translated from Azgedasleng to English as "blood death" was one of the more unspeakable acts that the Azgeda committed against the most abhorrent of their enemies. It was particular to the Ice Nation. Each tribe had their own signature way of horrifying execution reserved for the most heinous of enemies.

Clarke had learned about a great deal of them from Lexa, Anya and Lincoln. If she had any suspicions that Lexa and Anya might have been making them up, Ontari and other Azgeda warriors informed her that the stories of these execution methods were accurate. For the Trikru it was being hacked apart while alive. For the Floukru it was to be nailed to the front of a ship and let the sea's waters hit you, the salt getting into your wounds as you bled to death. The Sankru had being buried alive. The Boudalankru had being pressed over and over again with rocks, having the rocks taken off just when you were at the edge of death and only finally giving you the release of death when they wanted.

For the Ingranronakru it was being tied to different horses and being yanked apart. For the Podakru it was having parts of your body set on fire and then put out, only for another particular part of your body to be set ablaze. Till eventually they set you on fire completely and gave you the release of death. For the Ouskejonkru it was being sliced open and letting beasts eat your insides. For the Delfikru it was being tied to a tree in the middle of the land and being left to die of thirst. For the Trishanakru it was being lowered slowly onto small spikes that pierced different parts of the body and slowly bled a person to death. For the Luwodakru it was carving someone's wounds open and dumping dirt into them, sewing up their wounds and waiting for it to kill them. For the Yujleda it was stringing the person up into the trees by their upper torso, leaving them there and waiting for an animal or the elements to kill them.

And for the Azgeda it was the 'Helrer.'

Being skinned alive was bad enough. But to be skinned alive, the veins deliberately being missed so that the person stayed alive-stayed alive long enough for them to experience having their heart cut out of their chest, was on another level of brutality and unforgivable punishments. Clarke had even seen it done twice, as had her family. Blair, Farron and Kristin still had nightmares about those. Clarke had as well after seeing it. Only her family and Ontari knew that.

For her to be telling the queen that she wished to commit this act herself was perhaps a bit of a shock, even for the queen, even after the woman had probably seen more heinous acts than anyone in this nation. And had been the cause of at least a quarter of them. So here it was. The warrior who the queen had deemed as 'too noble' to kill out of revenge unless forced was demanding a grotesque death of one of her enemies. She wasn't sure the queen knew what to think of that. The queen lifted her head and smiled. "So be it. You will have your day of fury and vengeance. You will have it and all shall see." Clarke tried not to wince. There was _that_ part. Much like all the other executions committed by Grounders, the Heltrer would be public. In other words, everyone, including the twenty-six, Ontari, Farron and the other kids would see it happen at her hand.

How she had forgotten about that, even if it was in a fit of rage and pain, Clarke wasn't sure. But she knew now after making such an impassioned declaration that she couldn't just take it back. Not with _this_ Grounder. With the Ice Queen of the Azgeda, you couldn't just claim that you wanted to brutally slaughter someone in a torturous manner and then take it back a moment later, much less because you didn't want the people you loved most to watch you do something unspeakable. That just was a reason that got you killed fast.

And painfully. Not to mention put everyone you loved at risk.

Clarke took a breath, reaching up with her right hand, the back of it wiping away her tears. "I accept this. I'll kill him publicly for all to see." Clarke tried to ignore the pang in her heart at her own voice, feeling almost no remorse for this decision. It was time to end this part of her life with Lexa and Anya permanently. They never loved her. And if they ever loved her? It hadn't been worth the price. It was time to close this book on their lives, end the story between the three of them. Emerson was just one of the symbols of that. He had been a part of their lives in some disturbing way. He might have been one of the causes of the end of their relationship, if that relationship had ever actually been real in the first place, but he was symbolic of a time in Clarke's life when she had been lying to herself. Lying to herself that the love between her, Anya and Lexa would ever last.

It was time to erase that last tie between the three of them. Morbid and mangled as that bond of rope might be, Emerson was just that for her once relationship with the commander and her general. Now it was time to snuff out the life of that symbol of what had once existed between her and the two Trikru warriors.

It was time to extinguish that symbol. Clarke breathed in, trying to collect her thoughts, her determination building up a wall between herself and the agonizing pain that was just begging to be released. It was like Lexa and Anya had betrayed her at the mountain all over again. This was a wound that would never close-could never close. Clarke lifted her head, somehow composing herself completely, allowing no emotions out on her face and wiping the last bit of tears from her eyes as she spoke to the queen, her voice lacking emotion, much to her own disturbance, "I would like to go join my people in the main hall, if that's alright by you, your majesty." Something about the way she said it must have made the queen sway, or maybe it was how hardened her eyes were, but the queen's eyes widened with interest and her smirk became a little bigger.

"If you insist, Wanheda." The queen answered, sounding pleased. Clarke didn't need long to understand why the queen was pleased. She was a murderous, unfeeling warrior now. At least in this very moment she was. The queen gestured towards the door. "By all means, go join your Seconds. My guards will bring your food and wine and water back to you. You are free to leave and join the others." There was something all too pleased about the way Nia's voice sounded. She looked and sounded like the cat that ate several canaries. Clarke had a suspicion as to why. She had done more now than just give the queen what she wanted in torturing Emerson and agreeing to try to get her people to come her to the Ice Nation. She realized at this moment that she perhaps had never appeared more Azgeda than she had just now in wishing to enact the Heltrer. The queen might as well have said that she was giving the Ice Nation crowns to her and Ontari now, because Clarke knew in that moment that there would be no doubts, not even a speck of a doubt that Clarke was an Azgeda warrior now. There was no Skaikru or Trikru left.

The rest of the tribes could paint the Azgeda all they wanted as monsters with no souls, but it wouldn't change that Clarke knew the truth. She knew these people. And knew that the rest of the tribes were no better. The Sankru slaughtered the children of villages to break the parents' spirits and make it easier to attack them. The Podakru had almost destroyed the coalition when they had tried to take over Polis. The Boudalankru elders still would have allowed rape of prisoners left and right, if it wasn't for the laws that Commander before Ahan, Rahua had enforced on all tribes, stating that rape was punishable by the removal of the assailant's manhood and lashed until they were dead. Such a crime was forbidden in all tribes now, but the Rock Line tribe was the one that mourned such laws the most.

And the Trikru? Well, Clarke knew all about the Trikru's hypocrisy.

The Azgeda were beautiful in their honest monstrosity.

Clarke bowed her head and bid the queen thanks and goodbye for now, turning and going to the door. She went out, walking through the hall, thousands of eyes once again upon her. She just barely tilted her head to the left, watching Ontari stare at her, wanting to see if she was alright. She turned her head a little more, staring right at Ontari. Without words she promised Ontari, _We'll talk later. I promise you._

Clarke knew that her reassurance wouldn't do much for her entarg. It would only leave Ontari with more questions. But she would tell Ontari everything. Even if Ontari didn't like it. She turned back to the table where her people sat. Now she had never had any more certainty in her mind and mangled heart who her people were. She had already decided that the Azgeda people were her own as well as her family and Ontari. But now? Now she knew it for sure. These people were hers. All of them. And if she had to protect them from the Commander, then she'd do it. In a second. She walked to the table where her Seconds and family sat, sitting down between the confused and concerned Beryl, Edmund, Casey and Jesse, sitting across from Christopher, Sabine, Parker, Simone and Blair who were looking at her with questions. Farron immediately squirmed between her and Beryl to get closer to Clarke. Clarke leaned down at placed a kiss on the boy's head, smiling and promising him quietly that everything was okay.

The strangest thing? Clarke realized that she meant it when she said it to the boy. She watched as Nia exited the room eventually, the guards going into the room and bringing out the plates of food and the goblets.

Clarke snickered to herself at how strangely calm she was after everything, even with the still alive despair at this newest discovery of Lexa and Anya's betrayal right in her chest. In that moment, Clarke knew she could give them up. She had had always known since Mount Weather that she would have to give Lexa and Anya up at some point. But now, she knew she _could_ do it. It wasn't just that she had to or that she wanted to, she could see herself cutting the threads that bound the three of them together. Permanently walking away from Anya and Lexa. Closing the door and locking it, keeping the two Trikru Grounders out permanently.

It didn't matter if she never saw them again. It didn't matter that despite there being tribes like the traitorous Podakru and the cowardly Boudalankru who mourned the days when they were allowed to rape that were part of the coalition, the Azgeda were considered monsters amongst the rest of the tribes. So was Clarke. And the Azgeda were her monsters as well as her being their monster.

Clarke leaned down and rested her head on Farron's head, smiling gently at her worried family members, hoping to calm down their many questions. It wasn't just the feeling of calmness that was motivating her. It was a strange elation. One that she had never felt while thinking about killing someone horrifyingly. She had resigned herself to staying here and that the Ice Nation was her home. She had even come to feel safe here, of all places. But now there was more. There was a twisted sense of excitement. She _wanted_ to end Emerson in this way. She _wanted_ to tell Anya and Lexa that she knew what they were and that she was ending their relationship. She wanted to see the agony in their eyes as she left them and saw her sitting next to Ontari, Ontari's wife and queen. She knew that the 100 and the Ark people saw Grounders, all Grounders as savages. For that? She _wanted_ to see the Ark people bow at her feet. She wanted to see nothing but respect for her fellow Azgeda when they were brought here. And she wanted them to see her family as the great warriors they were.

Clarke gave a small chuckle, finding it funny. It was strange and disturbingly hilarious. She was certain her father would be ashamed of her if he saw her now. Her mother certainly would be too. Callie, if that wonderful woman who at times had been more of a mother to her than her biological mother had been would have been repulsed. If she was even still alive. It hurt Clarke to think that. But from the way the twenty-six had described all the discord on the Ark, what were the chances that Callie was safe?

And Wells, Raven, Monty, Octavia, Finn, Bellamy? Everyone else? Would they be able to stomach the sight of her if they knew what she was now? And yet that thought might have deterred her once. Even would have filled her with an endless ocean of shame and guilt. But now? Now she had just accepted it. She just didn't care. She was what she was. So was her family. And they should be proud of what they survived. She knew it now without doubt. She was Azgeda. She might have been from the sky, might have nearly been Trikru by marriage in a loveless relationship, but that was all gone now.

There was no Sky or Woods left in her. Just Ice.

All that was left was Clarke, the Azgeda warmonger.

 **Author's note:**

 **Anyone wondering if Lexa actually did deceive Clarke that whole time just to give the Mountain Men bone marrow so as to save her own people, no she didn't. But given Clarke just found out that that village didn't even exist, it's not the weirdest conclusion for her to jump to.**

 **And for those wondering where the Grounders are located across the map, I'll explain. Since dumbass fucker Rothenberg has no IDEA how humans work-we don't stay in one place permanently. At least, not after a generation or two has passed. Humans migrate after a time. I mean, hello, immigration and traveling.**

 **Humans would not stay in only America after the bombs hit. Don't be ridiculous. We humans are plenty stupid, but we don't work like that.**

 **North America: Trirku (Most of South East), Floukru (Most of Nort East), Ingranrona (Half of midwest), Boudalan (Northwest), Luwoda (the other half of Midwest and down to some of the west) and Sankru (Western areas, mostly desert places like Arizona states)**

 **South America: Yujleda, Trishana and Delfi.**

 **Canada: Podakru and Ouskejon.**

 **Norway: Azgeda (since the Azgeda are considered pariahs, they're kind of steered clear of by most tribes and villages.) Think of it this way, Norway is so cold that no one wanted to live there. So the Azgeda got the short straw. Would explain why most of their people are pissed. And loads of scattered unaligned villages that Nia wants control over.**


	18. You could have been Family

**Ro:** **Thank you. Thank you. Yeah. I can't believe some of the dumbasses in the fandom of this series. Cowardly? Right, was Clarke supposed to stand back and do nothing while her people were wiped out by Anya's army? Clarke freaking** _ **saved**_ **her people. But apparently if Clarke does it, it's automatically cowardly. Would people that say that Clarke burning the three hundred Grounders alive was cowardly if it had been Bellamy in Clarke's place? Or if Clarke was a man? I already suspect the answer, but you know.**

 **Skullgamerscy:** **Thank you so much and my apologies for the delayed chapter. Hope you like it.**

 **LilliKomTrikru:** **Oh yes, that is the intention, Ontari and Clarke staying together. And jealousy? Oh boy, wait for it.**

 **Ivy:** **Oh, so good to hear. Some Ontari and Clarke action is always good.**

 **Trigger warnings for depressing thoughts and inability to empathize. Mentions for violent deaths and the murders of children. And for ruined childhoods and children being implied to eventually torture and murder. Trigger warnings for misanthropic thoughts and complete lack of empathy in one character in this. Trigger warnings for mentions of rapes of adults and even children during wartime.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 18: You could have been Family:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

The announcement had been made right after dinner, causing a near uproar in the court. Clarke, Wanheda, the to be wife of Ontari, the Azgeda heir, was to commit the 'Helrer' on the morning of next day. Almost everyone at Clarke's table had gasped and gotten up, staring at Clarke. The most vocal, naturally had been Finley, David, Parker, Mario and Kristin.

The five of them all demanded what basically could be summed up as "what the fuck?" Clarke was sure that everyone in her family had thought the exact same thing. But those five had made their points the most clear, as Clarke had expected them to. It would have been a surprise if they hadn't reacted that way. Christopher had looked at her like she was hiding something. The wounded looks Beryl, Cameron, Casey, Blair, Lorena, Edmund, Avery, Sabine, Hodge, Bobbi and Simone gave her hurt. Hurt more than she allowed them to see. She had heard Paul's mumble, "But we talked about this." She could see the hurt confusion in Glenn, Martin, Bailey and Jesse's eyes. It hit Clarke hard. She didn't look at them, but she could feel Cody, West, Frank and Dallas's gaze fixated on her.

The protests from the young Azgeda children didn't register. She had looked down at Farron, watching the boy's reaction. She didn't want Farron to be afraid of her. She knew that the boy had had nightmares of previous Helrers. When Farron had been told that the last mountain man was here in the dungeons, the boy had been practically paralyzed with fear, till Ontari had suggested they show the boy what had become of Emerson. What state Emerson was in now.

It was to show Farron that the mountain man was indeed just a man.

Not a demon. Not a god. Not a spirit. Just a man. Seeing him be bound, gagged, and cut up and scarred would prove to Farron that the last mountain man could be wounded, even killed.

The point of showing Farron Carl Emerson was to prove that the boogeyman was indeed mortal.

Three days ago, when Clarke and Ontari brought Farron to the dungeons, showing the boy the captured and cut up Mountain Man, the boy had just stared as if he couldn't believe that the stories he had been told since he was old enough to absorb those stories had come from people like the tortured and pitiful man that he had then been witnessed to. The boy had had his belt of small weapons around his waist. Small daggers and knives as all Azgeda children were expected to have. When he had first come down to the dungeon, being told he would see the last Mountain Man, his hands had gone to his belt and remained there, waiting for a reason to pull out one of his knives, even though he had never killed before. And as soon as he saw the state that Emerson was in, his hands had almost immediately dropped from his belt, shock on his face.

The look on Farron's face was so astounded that Clarke could only assume that such a look could be described as if the boy had actually spoken the disbelieving words, _"This was what I was so afraid of?"_

Much to Clarke's relief, Farron had slept much more easily those past three nights.

And now? Clarke was going to do what might be the unthinkable, even to some Azgeda to Emerson. And she would do it in front of almost everyone.

Farron was looking at her as if trying to see if what he heard was true. He was looking at her as if he didn't believe the announcement he had just heard.

"Klark?" Farron asked quietly, "Is that true?" His innocent blue eyes peered up at her and Clarke couldn't meet the boy's eyes. She didn't want him to think she was a monster. Those thoughts that he had about monsters were reserved for people like Emerson, but Clarke knew that she, Ontari and her brothers and sisters were beyond that point by now. Clarke slowly turned to the boy who she had come to see as her son over time. She nodded, letting Farron read her eyes and see the truth for himself. She didn't want him to think any less of her. Even if that was what she deserved. But she would not lie to him. Her mother had lied to her about her father and had let her think Wells had been the one to sell her father out to Jaha. She wouldn't deceive Farron like that.

Farron, after a few moments, blinked and blanched back, as if struck. He then swallowed, nodding, face appearing indifferent.

"Will you let me help?" Farron asked. "Will you let me help kill him?" Clarke's mouth dropped, staring at the boy. Farron too? She had expected it partially from some of the twenty-six, and from the other younger kids like Linden, Lane and Aron. But Farron? This, Clarke hadn't been expecting at all. Farron, she never had thought to be the vengeful type. "Farron?" Clarke asked, looking at the boy expectantly. She frowned, uneasy. She didn't want to think that Farron would do anything harmful to anyone, but Emerson was a particular case. But Farron had never killed anyone before. He didn't have his first Azgeda facial scar. The scar that acknowledged you as a true Azgeda warrior. You couldn't be a true warrior until you received that mark. And you couldn't receive that mark until you had killed your first human being. Farron had never killed before.

"Farron, are you sure?" Clarke asked, almost afraid of the answer. Farron lifted his head and nodded, black hair getting into his eyes. Clarke's lower jaw tightened. When she had decided, realizing she was only Azgeda and there could only be Azgeda now, she had not intended to make Farron into a killer too.

Farron, looked up at Clarke. He bit his lip and started talking quietly, " _Kosona,"_ Clarke was startled at the title, her heart skipping a beat and watched as Farron looked at her hopefully. "I will do it in a second. The last Mountain Man is enemy to all of us. I need to do this. I'm not afraid of him. He's just a weak man that hurt you." Clarke nodded. She understood. It was the "facing the monster" thing that had occurred right back down in the dungeon when Ontari took them down there days ago. Clarke still was trying to keep her tight and overwhelming emotions down over hearing the boy call her "kosona." The Azgedasleng word for "mother."

She was certain she had never heard him say it to her before. If the way he had looked at her after he had said the word was anything to go by, he was hoping that she would acknowledge that it was okay that he call her that. She smiled warmly at Farron, hoping he took that as a good sign. Farron, though he was almost eleven now, was emotionally resigned and incredibly shy and timid because of the verbal and physical abuse his father, Tenmar had inflicted on him.

"Farron, sweetie," Clarke said, knowing Farron would understand the word she had just said, having heard it before as a form of endearment, "I don't want you to do anything that you'll regret." Farron blushed at the 'sweetie' comment. "I won't regret it. I want to do this with you. I don't want you to be alone doing it. And the Mountain Man is my enemy too. He deserves all of our hate." Clarke sighed, understanding Farron's resolve. She didn't like this. She didn't like the thought of Farron being faced with Emerson and doing this. Farron shouldn't have to bear this.

"He does." Clarke agreed. "But you don't deserve to have to do any part of the task that I'm about to take up." Farron nodded. "I know." He turned his black-haired head to her and said, "But kosona, I want to do this." The boy, the mere nearly eleven-year-old boy looked convinced of what he needed to do and took a breath, looking up at the girl who had become like his mother for the past nearly five months now, his bright eyes shining. "I don't want you to face him alone. He's done enough to you, hasn't he?"

Clarke sighed. Her brave boy wanted to make her feel like she wasn't alone. Like she and the twenty-six always did for him whenever they could. But Farron shouldn't have to do that. Or even feel like he should. Clarke knew she was lucky. By Azgeda standards, because of how basically anyone who was not of importance in Nia's eyes were treated, save for her loyal subjects, she was the luckiest person alive here. She even had a family now. She knew that if her people back in the Trikru territory saw what she had become now, they would be horrified by what had been done to her. They would be horrified when they saw her face and all the scars that were there now. All the scars that were on her body, arms and along her neck. In their eyes, she would be a savage. And she was alright with that now. She was much more comfortable with that now than she had been when she still had possessed doubts.

And now? The boy that had become like her son was getting ready to help torture one of her tormentors to death. She sighed. Her hands went to the table, holding the edge and thinking on this. She had accepted this. Accepted this completely. She was as monstrous as these people were. And Farron was born to these people. It was a gruesome and painful fact, but one day, Farron _would_ kill. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or the next day, but he would eventually. If they were going to go through with this plan to get rid of Nia and her followers, the chances of Farron getting out of it without having to shed some blood in order to keep himself and his family safe, were very, very slim.

Clarke hated how all Grounder cultures expected their children to grow up to be warriors, as if that was the only option. And how all Grounder cultures sent their children as young as six into training as if the children were soldiers and not human beings. It was the same thing with Tris all over again. Anya had told Clarke how old Tris had been when she had started training to be a warrior as Anya's Second. Tris's training had begun when Tris had been only eight when Anya had begun. It was one of those elements of a person that made you wonder if your lover had some unforgivable flaws.

Even before the mountain, Clarke had wondered about Anya when she learned how young Tris had been when Tris's training had begun.

Was the world a hostile environment? Yes. Were their wild animals and bandits and still the occasional, violent Grounder that didn't agree with the coalition and the peace that followed? Yes. Were there also the occasional murderer or pedophile that Tris and all kids would need to know how to defend themselves from? Yes. But there was a balance that was needed. Kids should know how to defend themselves, but they needed to learn how to be kids too. Grounder culture didn't really give kids room to do that.

Especially not Azgeda culture. Unless you had as much privilege as they had, or were nomads who had nothing to do with the queen's kingdom, but were under risk of being slaughtered, those were the only situations where the queen's people would not bother with those children. Farron, Linden, Lane and other kids had the protection of Wanheda and the other twenty-six, so they could enjoy being real kids instead of just being war machines. The other kids, the kids of nomads and other villages that refused to bow to the queen were allowed to be kids, but it wouldn't be long before they were hunted down and killed.

Childhoods were rare on the ground.

And neither Lexa nor Anya did anything about it. That had just been one of the many things that should have been a warning sign to Clarke. She knew that now. They both had proven what they were, but Clarke still hadn't allowed herself to see just what exactly they were. She had refused to see them for the lowly self-centered liars they were. It should have been so obvious, but it hadn't been.

The worst part was that a part of her still loved the two of them. Even though Anya and Lexa had never loved her, had only gotten into a relationship with her to trick her people into being taken into the mountain, Clarke knew she still loved Lexa and Anya. There would probably always be some part of her that loved Lexa and Anya.

Endlessly.

But that wasn't an option. Lexa and Anya were not options. But she knew some shameful part of her would always love them.

But it was even more the reason why she had to move on. Fortify herself from ever even thinking about them again. Or at least longer than a few minutes. It was getting better. There were times now when she barely thought of them any longer than nine or ten minutes at the most. Gradually, as time had gone by, Clarke had thought less and less of them. This new piece of grotesque information that she had learned of Anya and Lexa, thanks to Nia's revelation, made her mind spring forth new horrible thoughts. But it would only serve as motivation to forget them.

And one decision she needed to make was about whether or not she was to follow this tradition of children becoming warriors. It was Farron's choice, of course, but since she and Ontari eventually would be taking the throne after killing Nia, they would have to decide what was to become of the children in the kingdom. If they should train to be soldiers or not. The unanimous decision was no, they would not. But if Farron wanted to take part in this and help kill Emerson, was she helping him at all, helping his confidence at all if she decided to order him not to harm Emerson?

Farron was going to have to stand up to his father eventually. When he did, Clarke, Ontari and as many people as Farron wanted would of course be at his side to back him up during it. But Farron would have to do it himself. And Farron had admitted to knowing that. He even had said that he wanted to tell Tenmar that he wanted to cut the man out of his life, permanently. Clarke wouldn't feel comfortable with leaving Farron to stand up to Tenmar himself. She would stay right there with him to make sure Tenmar wouldn't lay a hand on her boy.

True, since Tenmar was a loyal follower of Nia, he probably was going to die anyway, but Clarke wanted him to be alive long enough for Farron to stand up for him and tell him to stay the hell out of his life.

But eventually, if Farron wanted to stand up to his father, he'd have to get the confidence up to do it. And for that? Would confronting and helping kill Emerson help? Maybe.

She nodded at Farron, smiling at him, sad that Farron's life was like this, but proud of how strong he was despite everything, and knowing that she would be there with him the whole way. "I will respect any decision you make, my henu." Farron's cheeks turned a light pink at her calling him "son" in Azgedasleng. He leaned forward and hugged her around her waist. Clarke smiled and hugged Farron back, not caring who saw and who thought she or Farron were weak for showing such affection. She lay another kiss on the top of her son's head and tilted her head to the right, seeing how she was being watched with betrayed confusion by the rest of her family and from Ontari far off on the platform.

She sighed, resting her chin on the top of Farron's head. Later. She would talk with all of them later. Later on tonight before they all went off to bed, she would explain. She looked right at the befuddled and almost upset Bobbi, Cody, Mario, Parker, Simone and the others and mouthed to them, _"Later, guys. Later."_

She would have to explain later tonight. She owed all of them that much.

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Seeing Octavia tied to the mast was something Wells admittedly had not been prepared for. What he was unprepared for even more was enjoying the sight as much as he did. He cared about Octavia. He did. But the affection and admiration he had for her only went so far. And it ran out at Octavia's ability to verbally harass people and strike people just because they didn't conform to her idea of "strong." It ran out when Octavia made it clear that she took Clarke's help and sacrifice for granted. So unfortunately, Wells understood that he felt a disturbingly potent depth of satisfaction at seeing the discomfort on Octavia's face, her arms and legs tightly bound to the mast, her back forced straight against the thin tower of wood.

Wells walked over slowly, looking at Octavia, sure that even though he enjoyed the sight, he wasn't letting any of his amusement show on his face. The quickest way to piss Octavia off, well amongst the many ways, was to look like you explicitly enjoyed her pain. And even though Wells was certain that Octavia was beyond reproach, he was hoping she took something away from this. He walked up, noting that Lincoln was sitting nearby, his worried eyes on Octavia, sitting on a crate up against the wall of the ship behind the mast. Wells trusted Lincoln more than any Grounder that he knew. And knew that Lincoln was by far more reasonable than his homon. But Wells knew better than to do anything that might count as "aggressive," even if Lincoln saw him as a brother.

Wells got close to the mast, meeting Octavia's still angered, bright blue eyes. "Is there going to be any time when you won't feel justified in your anger towards everyone?" Wells asked, sighing, frowning. He knew this was a real problem for Octavia. Anger issues. And he understood, given the girl's life. But nothing excused how Octavia acted towards everyone, much less hitting people. And she had been about to hit Charlotte, a young girl.

There was no excusing that.

"I guess you're happy to see me tied up like this, huh, Wells?" Octavia remarked. Wells supposed he should be relieved to hear her call him "Wells," not "Jaha" or "prince." But there was little about her attitude that could make him feel relieved.

"Actually, yes," Wells admitted, "I am. But not for the reasons you think. Not because I think I'm better than you. It's because you're way out of line. You were going to hit Charlotte. Our friend, our sister. Just because she didn't do what you said. Sorry, O, but that's really messed up."

Octavia glared at him and said in a tone that made Wells feel like she wanted him to feel like she knew better than him, "The world is messed up. So we can't be weak while living in it." Wells sighed, staring at Octavia sadly, like she was a disappointment. "Is that why you don't understand why sometimes sacrifices have to be made in war? Because you're so strong? You kind of are a hypocrite, Octavia." Octavia sent an acidic glare at Wells. Wells continued, not caring that they were being watched by more people than Lincoln. People _should_ know what kind of hypocrite Octavia was. Octavia wasn't the only one who had the right to some anger. "You want to be seen as strong and made of iron. But you can't stomach making sacrifices. That's why you'll never be a real leader. You don't know what it takes."

Octavia spat, "And _you_ do?" Wells shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know if I could have let Ton DC burn or pulled the lever in the mountain if it had been me there instead of Clarke. Or if I even could have pulled it with her. I'm not as strong as Clarke is. But can you say that you would have been able to pull the lever if it had been you? Even though you knew that there were thousands and thousands of children in the mountain as well as adults?"

The question vividly astounded Octavia. She blinked, glaring. Her glare softened and she looked more wounded at the question than angered. "How can you ask me that?" Octavia asked, disgusted. "Of course I couldn't." Wells nodded. "And we would have died if you had been in Clarke's place. We all would have been. You and me, Octavia? We'd have been shot by the mountain's guards. Raven, Abby, Kane, everyone else? They would have had their bones harvested until they were dead. Both of our bodies would have been used for bone harvesting for another culture. Everyone we care about? Monty, Sterling, Charlotte, Monroe, Fox, Harper? They would have all died. You wouldn't have had the strength to pull that lever, Octavia. And you didn't have the strength to accept that sacrifices have to be made in war. Ton DC might not have been right. But it was what was best at the time. If the Mountain Men figured out that Clarke knew about the missile, then they'd know we had an inside man at the mountain. And Octavia? You remember who that inside man was, right? It was your brother. What do you think would have happened to Bellamy if they realized we had someone on the inside? Do you think your brother would have lived if the people at Ton DC were evacuated?"

Octavia's blue eyes went huge with horror at the question and Wells was sure he had put a snag in her screwed up, self-righteous logic.

"So what would it have been, Octavia?" Wells pressed. "Would you have alerted everyone in Ton DC, knowing that your big brother would have been killed in the mountain? Or would you have saved Bellamy's life and kept quiet?"

Octavia's horror seemed permanent on the girl's face. And Wells already knew the answer. Again, he felt a certain amount of satisfaction. The satisfaction only increased when he said his next words calmly, "So you don't think it's okay that Clarke sacrificed hundreds of people in Ton DC to save millions, including our people. But you would have sacrificed hundreds of people just to save one person? Just to save your big brother? Like I said Octavia, you're a hypocrite. A hypocrite, and stupid."

Octavia only then snapped back to her senses. She gave a snarl, "You're just as bad as your father if you think Ton DC was justified." Wells was surprised to find that Octavia's words didn't hurt like he knew she wanted them to. He nodded, smiling sadly, knowing that to a degree, she was right. "You're for once, right, Octavia." He didn't react to seeing the shock covering Octavia's face at his words. "You are right about that, Octavia. I know what my father was. But one thing he was right about? Maybe the only thing? It was that the needs of the many come before the needs of the few. Maybe walking away from Ton DC was horrible," Wells breathed out, feeling his gut clench at the memory of the look on Clarke's face when she realized that he knew what she had done. "But what is more important? Helping two hundred something people escape from death? Or making sure that the Mountain Men, people who would have been a threat to ALL of us, to all people on Earth, were defeated? Which was more important, Octavia?"

Octavia grew pale and her eyes were filled with resentment, before she could answer, Wells interrupted. "I know that the answer is lousy. Okay, Octavia? I know. I hate what Clarke did. But unlike you? I understand that there was little choice. It was either do that and make sure that we had a chance at beating the Mountain Men or evacuate everyone and our inside man would have died. And any chance we had at releasing the intended army inside the mountain would have died too. And potentially? All of the people inside the mountain, your people and mine, the people we care about? Charlotte, Fox, Miller, Harper, Monty, you remember them? They would have been killed too from bone marrow harvesting."

Octavia had become almost impossibly pale. Wells had never seen her look so disgusted with the understanding of the information she had just been fed and he knew that she was trying to find her footing again so that she could feel like she had the superior high ground in this argument. "The plan was fucked, Jaha! The Commander screwed us! So Ton DC was for nothing!"

Wells nodded sadly, knowing that Clarke, if she was still alive probably had this eating her alive every day, thinking about it. "You're right. But how was Clarke supposed to know that would happen? She's not a mind reader and she can't see the future. I think a lot of our problems would be fixed if she were. I'm not either. And neither are you, Lincoln or Anya. I thought that the Commander wouldn't betray us. And Anya didn't think she'd do it. Neither did Lincoln. And are you going to tell me that you would have followed the Commander into battle if you knew that she would leave all of us?"

This question, again, left Octavia visibly shaken. Wells knew that logic was an alien thing to Octavia most of the time. But he had just said something that he knew would stump even her stubborn brain. "Of course you wouldn't have went into battle with the Commander if you suspected it." Wells answered his own question. "Which means that you followed her lead, because you didn't believe she would. If you, me, Lincoln and Anya didn't know, then trust me, Clarke didn't know. If she had known, she probably would never have left Ton DC to die. Not for one man. Because if she had warned everyone in Ton DC, do you know what the price would have been? The price would have been small. Just one life." Octavia's eyes widened in realization and hardened for a moment in anger at what Wells was implying.

Wells's sad smile returned. "So it's okay if Clarke leaves the people in Ton DC to die if that only means Bellamy will survive, but it's not okay if she leaves the people in Ton DC to die if that means that millions will live? Octavia, you are really confusing me. I don't believe you're this selfish. But you really are giving me the impression that you are."

Octavia glowered in disgust and rage, shifting her eyes away from Wells. Wells lost his smile. He wasn't as pleased by this as she probably thought he was. When he heard no words from Octavia, he sighed, about to turn away from her. He spoke softly, "Not all of us have the convenience of saving everyone. Sometimes you have to leave the smaller number to die to save the countless. I wish Clarke never had to find that out. I hate that Clarke had to do that. But I can't be angry at her. Because I understand. You? You won't even try to understand. You try to act like you can tell other people what to do, but when actual tough decisions and sacrifices have to be made, can you really say that you'd have the strength to make them? If you don't have that strength, then you're not in any position to judge. So I think we can easily disregard your opinions on it. Grow up, Octavia. Some sacrifices have to be made. Sometimes it's going to be made with you being the sacrifice. Sometimes it's going to be me being sacrificed. And it will probably be necessary. Sorry, but that's reality."

Wells heard a growl behind him but just turned away, feeling his sadness remaining. Octavia was just too stubborn to learn. She couldn't learn because she didn't _want_ to. It was the same problem that Miller and Bellamy had. They couldn't accept that they weren't the victims so they couldn't stomach not being right about everything. And so they didn't want to learn better.

People like that didn't change.

They were too busy stewing in their violent tendencies and selfishness to think about anything outside of their lives.

Wells went to get some of the rations from the far off left. Barrels and barrels were full of salted beef, fish, pork, boar, lamb and the like. The other barrels were full of vegetables like beets, carrots, onions, turnips and potatoes. Fruits like apples, pears, peaches, plums, oranges, melons and berries filled sacks. Those were usually eaten first to avoid fermentation. There were about six crates of them left. At the very bottom floor of the ship were the stalls where all the animals were kept. Their fates unfortunately would lead them to being killed on the ship and cooked for consumption. But in the meantime, they had these many barrels and crates full of food.

Wells opened up one of the barrels, holding the knapsack he had been given to bring to the others. It originally belonged to Sterling. It was an old backpack of some kind, brown, green and silver. Sterling, Monroe, Fox and Harper had eaten, but Charlotte was wandering around the lower parts of the ship and Raven and Finn were with her to make sure she didn't get into trouble. Raven was feeling better luckily and felt like eating again. For Charlotte, Finn and himself, he'd get lamb, berries and some cooked carrots. For Raven it would be best to get something as plain as possible, considering what her condition had been a couple of hours ago. Didn't want to make her sick again. So some chicken and turnips would do. No fruit. He didn't want acidity to hurt her stomach.

He smirked, sure if Raven knew how careful he was being, she'd give him a chewing out of his life for it. He heard footsteps coming up next to him and he turned his head, pulling out some lamb and stuffing it into the sack. The pieces were chopped into wide chunks for transportation, so it would be easy. Wells almost jumped when he saw the Commander standing in front of him. The sun was setting and it was getting dark, but he could make out her face in the light of the torches around them and from and from the little remaining light in the sky.

Lexa's features appeared calm and unscrupulous, her eyes were fixed on Wells. "Wels kom Skaikru," Leksa said to the young Sky man. "I heard what you said to Oktevia. I believe that you and Klark are great leaders. I know that there has been news of a council formed in your camp. But I'd advise that there be leaders who's decisions come before the council's decisions. You and Klark could be those leaders." Wells was startled by this sudden suggestion. What the hell was the Commander doing? Their council back at camp was made up of him, Abby, Raven, Octavia, Lincoln, Bellamy, Gina and Finn.

When Clarke got back, she'd likely be voted onto the council too. Hopefully she'd taken Bellamy's place. But Wells knew that that was only if Clarke wanted to be on the council. Having more of a burden on her shoulders would not be good for her. But Wells had no idea what the Commander was saying. He furrowed his eyebrows together at the Commander's confusing words. "What are you saying? You're telling me you think this because…?"

The Commander sighed, stepping closer, green eyes meeting Wells's dark brown ones. "There's a way of me being able to protect your people. Even if you were not born on Earth, there's a way. I would never leave your people to die again, because it would be treason. Wells cocked his head, frowning, perturbed. What was this woman saying? The Commander spoke again, "Onya and I were discussing what should happen after we returned with Klark." Neither of them said anything about that, but they both knew the terrible possibility of them not coming back with Clarke.

"And I found a way of keeping your people safe, Wels." Lexa continued, "By becoming the thirteenth tribe. If your people become my people, I would never be able to leave your people to die again. I know you've been distrustful of me on this voyage." Wells froze, jaw tightening, not wanting to give his emotions away. "I don't care about you being here. You're the Commander. So I assume it's just expected for you to be here." Lexa sighed, and Wells could make out a slight smile, "Wels, you haven't stopped glaring at me since we left. Since almost eight days ago. I know you don't trust me." Wells felt his skin burn and the anger start to resurface. "Can you think of a reason why I should trust you?" He asked. "You left us to die. And you gave people with missiles and who bombed Ton DC the ability to walk above ground by giving the Mountain Men bone marrow. I'd say that gives me plenty of good reasons not to trust you."

Leksa stared coldly at him and Wells didn't even flinch. If the Commander was serious about getting Clarke back and making them the "thirteenth tribe," which Wells didn't get, then she wouldn't lay a hand on him. And even if she did, Wells didn't care. This woman had made their lives a living hell. She had sent Grounders to kill them multiple times. She had led Clarke on and betrayed her and left her to die at the mountain along with the rest of their people. And now she was actually pretending to want to help them? Even if she did, wasn't it a little too late for that? His people would never agree to this. Even if they rescued Clarke from the Azgeda, their people would not be onboard with this.

"How?" He asked, before anything else could be said. "How would we be the thirteenth tribe?" Lexa's smile widened for only a second before she lost it, but Wells still saw it and he glared. The Commander answered, "If you and Clarke bowed to me before the council, you would be considered the thirteenth tribe-"

All interest Wells previously possessed was now drained. All that remained was fury. "Bow to you?!" Wells demanded, cutting the Commander off, "So Clarke is the one that killed your peoples' age old enemy and she bows to you? Not the other way around? Commander," Wells said darkly, gritting his teeth, making the Commander's eyes widen a little and his eyes shimmered with an emotion that she normally wouldn't recognize in this young man-rage, "Where the fuck do you get off? This might come as a surprise to you, Commander, but you are not the center of the universe. I don't care about your protection. Maybe we'll be alone in this world, maybe we won't. But at least we'll still have some dignity. I'm not doing anything until I speak with Clarke. And if she decides not to bow to you, then fuck you, Commander." The Commander stared at Wells, stunned by the language. Wells stepped closer, eyes narrowing, "Go ahead, take my tongue for my words. Kill me. Have me lashed. I'm sure Clarke will _love_ to hear about how you hurt or killed Clarke's childhood best friend and her brother. Have fun trying to get her back after that."

At Lexa's astounded expression, Wells felt a thrill of pleasure at putting Lexa in this position. He added coldly, "If Clarke decides we are better off on our own, then go ahead, send people after us. All of your people are invited to the rings of fire we're going to make. Including you." Lexa tensed at the veiled threat and Wells found more disturbing pleasure at the Grounder's conflict of what she did next. The Commander was so arrogant and thought that her words were as valuable as jewels. Her upbringing as the Commander had gotten to her head. Lexa thought that every choice made by every single person should be run by her first. Lexa being the Commander didn't make her a god. It just made her people _think_ she was a god.

It was like watching a spoiled child realize that she couldn't have ice cream before dinner. It had occurred to Wells that Lexa might not be mature enough to handle it if Clarke chose to leave Lexa permanently after she was rescued, if she hadn't chosen that already. Wells knew his best friend. What Lexa had done was unforgivable in Clarke's eyes. He already knew the answer of whether or not Clarke would forgive Lexa and Anya. No, she wouldn't. Not if Clarke was the same person she was before the mountain had happened.

Clarke did not forgiven personal betrayals. If Clarke hadn't before all this shit had gone down, when she thought that he had gotten her father killed, she wouldn't forgive any betrayals now that her own lovers had nearly gotten all of their people, including her mother killed.

"And Commander?" Wells added, voice cold, finding more anger inside him than he had bore in a long time since the Mountain Men almost killed Charlotte and Raven, "Don't think for a second that Clarke will forgive you. She won't. I've known her for a lot longer than you have. She won't forgive you ever." It was only then that Lexa's shock disappeared and was replaced with guarded anger. "I don't think you're able to predict what choice Klark will make when we find her." Wells smirked, sickened to find that he was enjoying hurting the Commander. He knew he couldn't hurt her physically, unless he wanted lashings at best or a death by a thousand cuts at worse, but he could hurt her another way.

He could hit her emotionally.

"Oh, I think I am." Wells said coolly. "I've known Clarke for a long time, Commander. Much longer than you. I know what makes her angry. What makes her hate, even. And you know what she hates more than anything else? It's when someone takes her trust and destroys it, and gets someone she loves killed. Why do you think Clarke hated me when we first came down? Remember? We told you about Clarke's mom told my dad about Clarke's father alerting the rest of the Ark about the oxygen loss? There's a reason why we told you that Clarke hated me when we first got down. She hates personal betrayals." Wells felt a cruel smile touch his lips. His chest hurt, remembering those first weeks on Earth, when Clarke had thought he had told his father about Jake Griffin. He remembered Clarke's anger and near hatred. The viciousness in her eyes every time she had spoken to him in those first few weeks still hurt to think about.

"Didn't…" Leksa was ashamed that she found her words stuttering and she felt disgusted with herself briefly. "Didn't Abi betray her homon?" Wells nodded. He smirked. "That's right. And do you know what else Clarke's done, Commander?" He added mockingly, "Clarke took off her own life detecting bracelet when she found out her mom was the one that betrayed her dad. She wanted her mom to think she was dead so she could hurt Abby. Revenge for her father and for her mom letting Clarke think it was me that got her dad killed." Wells dark smile widened. "Now if Clarke was willing to do that, to do that to her mom and get the Ark closer to not coming down and almost killing loads of people on the Ark, do you think she won't still despise you for breaking a promise and abandoning all of us to die?" Wells's smile became a grin. "I don't think you know Clarke at all."

Leksa almost stepped back at this information. Klark had risked everyone's life on the Ark? All for revenge on her mother? Leksa was sure that she could feel her heart stop at this. Klark…she wouldn't. She knew what was important. She wouldn't risk that many peoples' lives all for revenge…..would she?

Leksa wanted to threaten Wels. Warn him that if he lied about Klark again, she would take his tongue, but in his dark, cold eyes, she saw no deceit. Her flesh felt cold. Was Wels telling the truth?

Would Klark really do something like what Wels had described? Risk millions of people on their Ark just so Klark could hurt her mother? It occurred to Leksa for a moment that maybe she did not know Klark as well as she had thought.

"You won't be forgiven by Clarke," Wells said heatedly, "Not anytime soon. Have fun with that." He stepped closer to the Commander, face becoming a mask of anger, a dark smile on his face, "You're poisonous, Commander. You're poison in the flesh. You say that you'll keep us safe? Well, we've heard those claims before. And you didn't uphold your end of the deal. Please excuse me if I'm less than trusting about this proposal about you making us your thirteenth tribe. If it were just up to me, I'd say no. Because you would kill us all in our sleep." The accusation made Lexa look like she had just been slapped. Wells found his words more satisfying than anything he had experienced before when it came to an enemy. He was fine with thinking of Lexa as the enemy. Because she was. Even if she wasn't now, she would be eventually.

He had never felt this good when shooting at the Grounders or when shooting at the Mountain Men.

This was new. This only reminded him of whenever he had thrown a particular cutting remark at Bellamy to make the older leave him alone with Wells wanted to brood after the mountain. It had been particular tempting to do after everything, and after Clarke left the camp. He had felt so alone after that. And Bellamy had been an easy target. This was the only thing he could compare those times he had chewed out the older man with. And it was an accurate comparison.

He had found that he had a knack for giving cutting remarks when he got angry enough. It was something that the kind and gentle Wells he had been almost a year and a half ago would never have imagined.

He truly, when he thought about it, didn't believe his own words about his people being killed in their sleep by the Commander's people if they took Lexa's offer. But seeing Lexa's outrage was worth the startling and out of line statement.

Wells continued, tucking the sack full of food closer to him, smirking, "You want to start a war with us? Go ahead. From what I remember, it didn't end well for three hundred of you."

He started to move away from the Commander and added, "Look into that statement however you want to. I'm sure you will. Poisonous animals always only look out for their own interest anyway." Wells was about to move away, when the anger over what Lexa had done at the Mountain reared its ugly head. He stepped closer then, a sneer on his face as he said, more anger coating his voice than he could help, "You know, it's not just us and Anya you betrayed when you left us to die at the Mountain. You betrayed yourself too."

At the shocking words, Lexa narrowed her eyes. "Watch your tongue, Wels kom Skaikru. What do you mean by that?" Wells snorted. "Do I have to say it? You try to bring an army to the Ice Nation to save Clarke, but you already lost her. You walked away from her. So who is it to blame that she's not here right now?"

The Commander scowled. "Do not try to understand my choices. This was my decision and I did it for my people. And Klark did what she had to do for her people." Wells nodded, unfazed by the Commander's calm words, "She did do what she had to do for her people. Only because you weren't there. Do you think she would have had to pull the lever if your army had been there with us?" Again, before Lexa could answer, the woman too startled by Wells's bold words to respond immediately, Wells began speaking again. "See, you claim that a Commander is supposed to protect her people. But when you gave that necklace to Clarke, you and Anya both made sure she knew that she was your people, right?"

When Lexa's anger returned to her eyes before she became guarded, Wells knew that Lexa saw the necklace he had given Anya to show to the Commander. The "wedding necklace" that both women had made for Clarke while pursuing her. The necklace that Clarke had torn off in retribution for her lovers leaving her people to die.

"You made Clarke your people when you told her you wanted to marry her," Wells said, "But you weren't willing to protect the rest of her people. Her family. So you don't deserve her." Lexa's body became tight and Wells knew he was risking potentially having a knife pulled out on him, but Clarke was worth it.

"When you abandoned Clarke and the rest of us, you told Clarke blatantly that you didn't think that she was your people," Wells said, feeling conviction possess him as he remembered that day like it was yesterday, the flashes of his people chained up and screaming as Dr. Tsing worked seared into his brain. "You didn't just abandon Clarke when you left the mountain that day, Commander. You threw away your chance of being happy."

The Commander held her head back, hands clenching at her sides. "That is the Commander's duty." Lexa answered. "To give up one's personal happiness for the sake of her people." Wells chuckled, feeling like Lexa was missing the point. "You don't get it. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that, right? You have ears, but you don't _listen._ When you turned the other way and left us to die at the mountain, you _did_ leave your people to die. Because you were going to make Clarke your people and we were her people. So we already were your people. You just chose not to acknowledge that. You didn't just give up Clarke. You didn't just abandon your future wife. You could have been more than just the wife of a Sky person and the Commander. You could have been family."

Now the Commander was longer tense, she had loosened and all that remained on her face was shock. It was clear she didn't know how to handle this information. Wells knew it was time for him to walk away while he could before things escalated. He turned and started moving away. "And you threw that chance away." He said to her. "Your own fault. Now live with it. You want to try and make me pay for what I'm saying? Go ahead. I'll just tell Lincoln about what you tried to do to Octavia because she knew that you and Clarke knew about the missile."

Wells turned back around, finding a euphoria in the words he was delivering to Lexa. "I wonder how long it will before your little kingdom comes collapsing. A commander as soft as you can't stay in power for much longer." At Lexa's guarded expression, Wells added, smirking, "We both know why you're offering us a place in the coalition. It's why you want us to kneel. Because Clarke's one of us and pulled the lever at the mountain, we made you look weak in front of your people. You're not doing this because you want to help us. You're doing this because you want us, people who killed your enemies for you, to be submissive to you. You can't stand that we did something that you couldn't even dream of doing. That's why you want us to kneel. You want us to be inferior to you so you can feel superior. That's not an act of a good leader. Kings and queens have died in the old days for being so weak and petty. You will die alone on the throne. Because that's what happens to self-centered leaders who don't take risks for those they love."

Lexa's eyes were filled with rage before Wells cut it down with a sad sigh, "Costia, Clarke, why were they both wasted on you?"

Wels's words were staggering and it hit Leksa to the core, making her stop any violent actions she might have thought of. Her eyes widened. His accusations, his belief that she would die alone, a fear that she was starting to believe would come true, and saying that Kostia and Klark were wasted on her. Was Wels right? She hadn't rescued Kostia and it had cost the young woman her life. Leksa hadn't even avenged her lover. And she hadn't protected Klark. Not at the Mountain. And she hadn't been there when Klark had been kidnapped. She hadn't been there when Klark had been taken by the Azgeda.

The whispers of the council felt like they were here now, whispering in her ear about how weak she was.

Was Wels right? Was the council right? Were they all right?

Wels had to have sensed Leksa's hesitation, because his sneer was out in the open. "Commander of arrogance. Commander of vanity. Commander of stupidity. Commander of loneliness." The Commander's body tensed and Wells could almost see the cold chill that his words were giving her.

Wells continued, a vicious smile on his face. "You can't even see your own mistakes. You can't even see how weak you actually are. Go ahead, kill me for my words. Use violence against someone who is just talking. Prove that I'm right and that you're unworthy as a Commander. Prove to my people that you are a savage. Prove their point. You will die alone on your throne. I, a member of authority of the Sky people, King Wells will never kneel to you. And when our Queen comes back to us, she won't bow to you either. I know Clarke better than you ever will. And I know she won't kneel. Wake up from whatever dreamland you're living in, Commander. In the real world, the things you've done can't be lived with."

Wells walked away, not once looking back, smirking. The satisfaction he felt streaming through him shouldn't have felt so good. He never in any other situation would have called himself "king." He wasn't Bellamy, for goodness sake. He wasn't an arrogant piece of shit. He thought it arrogant to even refer to himself as a "warrior," let alone anything like a duke or a prince. But he had used the title, "king" to drive home the point he was trying to make to Lexa. He knew he may have just made things more tense between their people. But he found he didn't care. Weren't they already on a very wobbly tightrope with the Grounders? As soon as Clarke was back with her people, it was likely that things were going to go South fast. So why not make the best of it and tell the Commander what he saw when he looked at her? A monster. A traitorous, cowardly, murderous, poisonous monster.

She claimed that she was looking out for her people, but Wells had meant his words. If Octavia was technically a Grounder because she was with Lincoln, didn't that mean that a leader of the Sky people eventually being married to the Commander and a Trikru general make her and all of her people by proxy Grounders too? The Commander _had_ betrayed her own people at the mountain, the commander just had refused to acknowledge it and Wells refused to allow the Commander not to see it.

She was toxic for his sister and if Wells could help it he'd do whatever he could to keep Clarke safe from that woman. He trusted Anya far more than he did the Commander, but he knew that Anya would stay loyal to her Commander. Neither of them really could be trusted too much. Clarke was better off without them both. Wells made his way to the door opening leading down to the lower levels of the ship. He went inside, going past the wooden walls with a few lit torches grafted to them. Why did things have to be so complicated and hard?

Things used to be so simple. Be a good person. Save your people. Help your people. Make sure yourself and the people you care about are taken care of. Try to make peace with the people that already live on Earth if you can. Make peace no matter what it takes.

How did it all go wrong?

But Wells knew the answer, deep down. Deep down, he knew exactly what had gone wrong. What went wrong was that people at the end of the day didn't really want peace.

Well, that wasn't really true, was it? People wanted peace, yes. But not necessarily the type of peace that he and Clarke would have liked. Not the peace that involved diplomatically getting along with your neighboring tribes. People wanted peace, but they wanted that peace when everyone else was dead.

People wanted the deaths of those that they didn't understand. Because people feared what they didn't understand. It was only then that people would accept peace. It was a sad fact that made Wells mildly disgusted with his own species. That was an experience he had never encountered before. Feeling like his own species didn't deserve protection or even praise. But the truth was, maybe a species ability to survive had nothing to do with 'deserve?' Because if everyone got what they deserved, then a lot of them would be bleeding slowly to death, their pain lasting for days or weeks even. Him, Octavia, Miller, Kane, Bellamy, Lexa, Anya and so many others would be suffering. And Clarke, Raven, Charlotte and Gina would get far, far better than they had.

If humanity got what it deserved, then those bombs that had been unleashed ninety-five years ago would have done a more efficient job at wiping people out and the Ark would have broken down a long time ago.

Wells hated it, but he knew he wasn't the person he had been when he had dropped down with the other 100 almost two years ago in that dropship in the Trikru territory. The person that he had been would never have had these thoughts. Not even at his worst. But that version of Wells? He was dead. He had died when he had participated in setting 300 Grounders ablaze. He had died when he had felt no anger over Ton DC. Because the Wells he was now? He understood. The Wells he had been had been dead by the time the Mountain Men had been wiped out. The Wells that he had been would have been disgusted with the thoughts he had now, with the _person_ he was now. But he was all that was left of the person of who he had been. A ghost. An undead person who almost wished that humanity had gotten what it deserved.

Who saw at least half of the 100 as weak, stupid brats that never helped themselves and if they had been left on their own, they wouldn't even try to save themselves. Miller was the biggest example of this. It made him wonder how many of them, including himself, actually were worthy of being saved.

Ever since the mountain, Wells had been susceptible to these thoughts. He had felt his empathy slowly drain. He knew what the opposite of empathy was. Apathy. He had come to realize he suffered from it about three months after Clarke had left. And even when he realized it, he hadn't cared. Why care? No one else did. No one bothered to save themselves. So why bother?

Wells stopped himself from thinking further into his dark, twisted thoughts. He swallowed at the dismal thoughts he was surrounding himself with. He didn't want to meet with Raven, Charlotte and Finn with these thoughts. Not with this level of toxic thoughts in his brain. He tried to force the disgusted thoughts away, trying to focus on the cute visual of Charlotte playing with a few goats from the stables.

He was going to see Charlotte soon and they could relax and eat. Wells got down the long ladder that led down all the way to the stables and the instant he reached that floor, the putrid scent of the animals' poop reached his nose. His face wrinkled in disgust as he got down to the floor, forcing himself to get used to the scent and started walking across the floor.

He heard the bleats from the sheep and the baaing noises from the goats.

He turned the corner, following the noise and found the many tall wooden stalls lining the room, finding Charlotte in front of one, petting a goat and feeding it hay. Wells chuckled. It was going to be really bad when it came time to slaughter that goat for food.

Next to Charlotte were Raven and Finn, Raven eyeing the animals like she kept expecting the animals to bite one of her fingers off as she fed them. Wells forced a pleasant look on his face, chest tight. He was going to act civil and not let any of his friends or family know what his twisted thoughts entailed.

He came up next to them. "Hey, Charlotte," He said affectionately, smirking at the blonde petting the goat. "Got you some food." Charlotte turned to him and grinned. "Thanks, Wells." She said, taking the knapsack from him as he handed it to her. He looked at Raven and Finn. He grinned. Raven, you look like you think the animals are going to grown fangs or something." Raven said dryly, "Don't joke about that. With horses I wouldn't be surprised. These things are probably no different." Wells chuckled as Finn helped Charlotte get the stuff out of the knapsack, moving it away from the inspecting, greedy animals.

"What's wrong with them?" Wells asked, Raven's incredulous, beautiful face easily making the cruel anger and depressing thoughts that had clouded his mind disperse, "They're just goats and pigs and sheep." "Yeah." Raven grumbled, "But at least I know what to do around machines. They're easy. Animals are unpredictable." Wells smiled, nodding. He walked over next to her, finding her presence soothing. He reached his hand up and petted the goat's neck. "Don't be too upset, Billy goat." He said to the oblivious animal. "She didn't mean it." Raven said dryly, "You might not want to get too attached to Billy boy here. It will break your heart when you know they'll have to….."

She raised her hand to her throat and mimed slashing her hand across it.

Wells sighed, glancing at Charlotte who wasn't paying attention to Raven. He chuckled. "I know, I know. Just don't tell Charlotte that." Raven sighed, giving Wells a sympathetic look. "She's going to have to find out eventually. If she doesn't know already. Don't baby her, Wells. She's not as naïve as you think she is. She knows we have to eat." Wells's frown was deep and he sighed, closing his eyes, "I know. But we've already given up enough. I just want Charlotte to be able to enjoy her childhood a little longer."

He heard Raven answer, "I know. But Wells? You think she's a child anymore after everything?" Wells opened his eyes, dread in his heart and he looked at Charlotte who was smiling at Finn. He turned back to Raven and shook his head. "I know she's not. But even if we have to deal with all the shit we've been through, we should still get some peace and quiet. If I have to, I'll do everything I can so Charlotte can get some goddamn peace." Raven stared at him for a few seconds before she nodded. They all knew and anyone from their group who heard Wells's proclamation would understand.

They had to look out for each other, because no one else was going to.

The Commander and her people had made that pretty clear.

Wells smiled at Raven, just happy she, Charlotte and the others were still safe. They were one of the few reasons, along with the hope of find Clarke again that he actually felt _anything_ besides numbness, besides apathy. For their sake, he had to hold on.

Above deck, a fuming, but an unchanging faced Leksa started walking back over to Onya who was leaning back against the wall of the ship, one of the other Trikru aboard, Wakuren, a woman of almost forty-three next to her. Even in the dim firelight of the torches, Leksa could make out her once Fos's smirk, even though Onya's dark eyes were filled with fury over what she had just heard. "That ended well, Heda."

"Watch your tongue, Onya." Leksa answered. "Sha," Onya said, nodding. "And how did Wels react to you saying that? If you can't get a young Sky man to do what you want, Heda, the council won't listen very well about this suggestion of making the Skaikru the thirteenth tribe. That, Heda?" Onya sighed, "That was a disaster that I just witnessed." Onya's angry eyes went past Leksa at where Wels kom Skaikru had disappeared from the deck. Onya wished she could be enraged at Wels-and she was. But she hated how she found truth in Wels's words when he had spoken to her Heda.

Leksa glared at Onya. Onya had been the one to suggest it, but both of them knew that there would be complications. For the thirteenth tribe to be formed within the Coalition, to have its place there, the leaders of the Skaikru would have to bow before the Commander. That would go for Kane, Abi, Oktevia, Linkin, Reivon, Belomi, Belomi's homon, Gina, Fin, Wels and Klark too. This would take willingness to bend that many of the council of the Skaikru did not have.

Leksa knew that more than half of those on the council would not be willing to bow. Reivon, Belomi and Abi were the most vocal about their disgust with her and her people. Oktevia would bow to no one. And Linkin's relationship with her made getting to Oktevia through speaking with him difficult. And Linkin had been exiled for leaving to go to the mountain. It was tense enough as it was. Leksa had approached Wels because she knew the young warrior to be a reasonable man. If Wels, the man who Leksa had deemed the most reasonable of the bunch showed such disdain, it was unlikely anyone else would see reason.

This was a problem.

Wakuren, who had been silent the whole time, leaned forward and decided to speak. "Is there no one else you could ask on the council besides this Wels, Heda?" She asked. Leksa turned to Wakuren, thinking about the older woman's question. Wakuren was a tall woman, just a little shorter than Onya, broader shouldered, with scars along her face on her right cheek and one slash along the left side of her neck where a warrior had almost slashed her throat open before she had gutted him. The three marks on Wakuren's right cheek were made from multiple daggers in a form of torture.

Wakuren's eyes were dark blue-green. Her hair, long, thick, light brown and went a few inches past her shoulders. The woman was wreathed in dark brown and black furs, below the furs were more battle scars, almost hundreds of kill marks and two tattoos. One for her tribe's symbol, the symbol of the Tirkru people, and one to signify her a great warrior of her people.

There was a reason why Leksa had brought Wakuren and many warriors like Wakuren along. Wakuren, like Onya had fought in the wars before Leksa had formed the Coalition. Many of the warriors on this ship and the ships full of warriors that Leksa had sent for were. They would have scars from those battles to prove it. Those many decades of war and different tribes carving out territories for themselves had been barbaric, merciless. Men, women and children had been slaughtered in their sleep, livestock had been stolen and killed. Lands had been burnt to destroy the food supply of enemies. So many orphans had resulted from those wars, their parents being slaughtered in the raids. And so many, so many had been violated, raped. Even children.

If anyone would understand the brutality that they would have to deal with now in the Ice Nation, Wakuren was one of those people. She and Onya had fought together against the Podakru when the Lake people had tried to take Polis.

The many scars that adorned Wakuren's person were from the attacks of Yujleda to Boudalan attacks, to attacks from the Ingranron. Those scars on her cheek were just one of the many tortures inflicted on Wakuren from the Ingranronakru after the Trikru and Floukru temporarily allied with each other against the Plains People. Wakuren was steel in the flesh. She would not bend against the Ice Nation. She had lost so much in the wars. The injuries had just been the beginning.

"Perhaps if we speak with Kane," Leksa said, trying to think of who they could get to help them. "Maybe." Onya said, shaking her head. "But good luck trying to get him not to do everything that weakling Abi wants of him. That woman won't do anything that she thinks will endanger her control. And if we really want to believe that she loves Klark at all, then she won't do anything that endangers her daughter." Onya snickered, leaning back further against the wall of the ship. "And to Abi, that's making any alliances with us."

Wakuren snorted, shaking her head, "Loves? That woman loves her child? Who decided that that woman should be a mother? That woman wouldn't know how to protect her child if she even had the orders carved into her skin." There was a wide smirk on her face to match Onya's and Leksa sighed. There was that, of course. Having someone as unruly as Wakuren onboard. Wakuren had been there in Ton DC with Onya when the Mountain Man, Emerson had been caught and had witnessed Klark ordering him to be released with the message to Dante Wallace in the mountain that there was a huge army that they had at Ton DC. She had seen how Klark had commanded the people of Ton DC. And Wakuren had been one of the people that had survived the missile that Leksa and Klark knew about.

Wakuren's leg had had what the Skaikru called "shrapnel" in the upper part. The shrapnel had been taken out carefully by Abi and Klark afterwards. There had been some in Wakuren's left arm and shoulder that had been taken out too. Nothing hit her heart, thankfully. Wakuren had suspected from the beginning that the Commander had known and that the Sky girl that she had been with, Klark had known too. But Wakuren did not judge and did not accuse. She just said what she knew as fact. That in order to win the war, two leaders had made an important decision. To sacrifice two hundred people so that all of the enemies of the Mountain Men could live.

Wakuren felt no spite for either women.

If anything, Leksa was certain that Wakuren genuinely liked Klark. Wakuren had seen how Abi treated Klark in Ton DC, and Leksa had seen how disgusted the woman was of Abi.

Wakuren pressed her point as she added, low voice a growl, "She couldn't even get in that ship with her daughter when the "100" were being sent down to the ground? She was on the council. Does she really want us to believe that she couldn't do anything for her daughter at all? Even if it was just come with her to the ground to be with her daughter? If it had been me in her place, the Skaikru would have had to _kill_ me to keep me from getting in that ship if my child was in it. Abi doesn't know her place. Such a weak woman."

Leksa nodded, smiling. "I'd expect no less, Wakuren." Wakuren had lost both of her children in the wars. Her children's nontu had been the only thing she hadn't lost thanks to the war. The man that Wakuren had sex with to produce children had been another Tirkru, Ogaloro and that had been all the sex had been about. To give Wakuren the children she wanted. Ogaloro was married to Wakuren's sister and her sister, Salayne had given both of them her permission to have children together, as long as the sex were only for that.

Ogaloro and Salayne were still married and two of their four children were still alive. But Wakuren's children were as dead as Ogaloro and Salayne's other two children. All four of them had perished in the wars before the Coalition.

Wakuren's ten-year-old son, Halul and eight-year-old son Manio had been slaughtered at what was supposed to be a neutral territory in Polis when the two boys had gotten some water from the local well. An Ingranron man had slaughtered them without thought. When Wakuren had found their bodies, going out looking for them because they had not come back, her screams had leveled everyone in the vicinity, knowing this was an atrocity in such a neutral territory.

And the wrath that Wakuren wielded in the later months and years against the Ingranron had been palpable. She had killed her way through the tribe till she found the man that took her sons' lives. She found him and she had carved him up slowly, tying him to a tree and disemboweling him.

If there was a warrior that was spoken of with as much fear and reverence as they spoke of the Commander herself and Wanheda, it was Wakuren. She was called the "Scourge of the Plains People." The Ingranronakru avoided Wakuren's territory where her village was like it carried a plague. Though Wakuren had gotten her man, they all were terrified of her. She had devastated their tribe before the Coalition had formed and none of them forgot it.

It was why Leksa had made sure to have the coming Ingranronakru come to them in separate boats. And why the Podakru's boats were going to be kept well out of Onya's sight. She would not risk any of her army having any conflicts because of past blood being spilled. Not when Klark's life was on the line.

"I will have to think about what to do." Leksa admitted. "Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way. Perhaps Wels was not the right person on the council to speak to." She turned slowly and looked at where Linkin was sitting, looking at Oktevia worriedly.

Wakuren said, catching Leksa's attention, "Of course, if I decide I find something more worthy of my attentions, I can't promise I'll stay there. If I have to I'll take a ship from the Azgeda and get back to the Trikru land."

Leksa turned her head, narrowing her eyes. "You dare disobey your Heda, Wakuren?"

Wakuren held her hands up, chuckling, smirking all the while. "Not at all, Heda, not at all. But I would like to inform you that unless I see anything worth my while there at the Ice Nation, I see no reason to remain at your behest. I don't think you'll see anything worth it either." The Commander's voice took a threatening tone, which Wakuren was unfazed by completely, "I would think well on what you are saying before you defy your Heda."

"Wakuren," Onya warned, "Watch your words." Wakuren turned to the glaring Onya who was staring at her viciously. "You will show respect to our Heda."

Wakuren sighed. "It's not about disrespect to _this_ Commander. It's disrespect to the title. What does being the Commander protect? Commander, where was Heda Ahan when my sons were murdered?"

Leksa felt the anger spike before starting to subside. She understood. Despite Leksa's admiration and never ending reverence for the previous Commander, Ahan, Leksa knew that a mother's grief transcended all other emotions. "I am sorry for the pain you have had to live with." Leksa said, thinking about losing Kostia and what leaving Klark at the mountain meant for her and Onya. "If Ahan could have protected your sons, she would have. But her duty came first to all her people. She could not put the lives of two children first."

Wakuren chuckled without even a shred of mirth, "And I would not have had the audacity to ask her or expect her to. I still wouldn't. But I have to preserve what I have left. So does my family. My sister, her homon, their two last children, our nontu, we've lost enough in the wars. If you were also my friend or my sister, Leksa, I would risk everything to protect your Klark. But because I only know you as my Commander, a title to which you are unable to ask questions yourself, unless the council is to call you weak, my faith in you, I'm afraid lacks." Wakuren had to know that she had went too far when a hissing Onya stepped closer, but Wakuren spoke again, this time with more force, staring at the outraged Leksa, "Heda, I hope you can forgive me, but if the council had said that they thought you were weak for taking all of these warriors to the Ice Nation just to save _one_ Sky girl, what would you have done?"

The question disarmed Leksa a moment. Her mouth parted for half a second. She spoke then, thinking, "What decision I make is none of your concern, Wakuren. But had the council said that to me, I would still have brought the armies. And as for the council's question?" Leksa smirked. "It's not just one person, is it? It is Wanheda. And should the queen kill Wanheda, she would have the confidence and the backing of the allies of all those who hail her as the warrior who killed Wanheda. And she would come to Polis and wage war. It's not just Wanheda's life on the line. It's everyone's. All of the tribes will suffer if Queen Nia takes Wanheda's life and gains the strength to attack us."

Wakuren smirked. "Those are some well crafted words. Maybe you mean them, Heda. But I still have to protect the few loved ones I have left in this world." She turned her attention to Onya. "That's why, Heda, I ask that you keep me in close ranks with Onya. Allow me to fight alongside Onya when we are about to attack the queen's kingdom. And I will obey your every command without question."

Leksa fought the urge to reach for the hilt of her sword. Wakuren was working away at the last bit of restraint she had. Wakuren was even worse than Onya if that were possible, when it came to teasing and taunting. Though she had never before thrown that teasing behavior at any Commander that Leksa knew of, she always got the sense that the older woman didn't take her job as a general very seriously. "You will obey my command without question either way, Wakuren." Leksa said, voice hard, not having any more patience for this. "And that's the end of the discussion."

Wakuren chuckled, smirking. "And what does the council demand?" Before any more words could be said, Wakuren added, "Have me lashed if you'd like. But I'm going to die in battle one way or the other most likely. So I would like to enjoy what little freedom I have to speak my mind while I can. And it's not you specifically I doubt, Commander. It's what the title of 'Heda' means. When the council are the ones that Heda is meant to answer to. Because the council are the ones that make the rules, not the Heda. And I think all three of us know that."

Anger pricked away at Leksa. But this time she knew it was because she knew that Wakuren was right. "That's why I want to know," Wakuren said, this time not surprising the Commander at all, "Will my sister lose someone else she loves? Is Salayne going to lose her older sister?"

Leksa wanted to be angry. She wanted to be furious. And a part of her was. But she knew what the council thought of her now, after she had given the Mountain Men the Skaikru, giving the Mountain Men bone marrow to walk above ground. With their missiles and other bombs. The council believed her weak. Because the Mountain Men were defeated by some soft Sky girl. An outsider. And that made the Commander, the one who was supposed to be the cause of the Mountain Men's downfall, look weak by comparison.

And there was the question of the Commander's loyalty to her people after giving their sworn enemy, the Mountain Men bone marrow. The question amongst many now, and Leksa knew they said it often in the following months after the mountain was, "is Heda to be trusted?" Her loyalty was being called into question more regularly. And Leksa had mastered the appearance of being uncaring, as Onya and Titus had taught her to. But this continual asked question? It scared her. It scared her in a way that she hadn't been scared in a long time.

It wasn't the familiar fear of losing someone she loved that reminded her so much of when she lost Kostia and when she had to kill Gostos for his betrayal, or her fear that her mother and father might be hunted down by enemies to hurt the current Heda, or when she had been searching the land for months for Klark. This was another and less frequent fear.

A fear that she would be betrayed. Killed out of betrayal by her accusers. It had happened before. More often to the first number of Hedas because the new culture was still adjusting to the new rules of the newly formed society. But it had happened less and less after that. But Leksa wondered if this would be the exception to the rule of what had been normal in recent times.

She knew when she turned her back, there were whispers of her actions at the mountain and how she was now believed to be such a coward she had betrayed her own people to the Mountain Men. That was where Leksa's careful attentive obedience to the council came in. She always took their words into account, but she knew now that even appearing defiant to what they wanted could risk their criticisms and blaming. So Wakuren's troubled thoughts on how many people she could protect were not as without grounds as Leksa would have liked.

"I will protect who I need to protect, Wakuren." She said. "And that's the end of this discussion. I will not hear anymore. Another word and I will have you lashed." Wakuren smirked nodding her head, bowing in respect that Leksa knew not to be real. "As you command, Heda."

Wakuren stood back and leaned against the ship's wall, smiling almost pleasantly. She was now silent. Like a waiting serpent just spoiling for the next time she could open her venomous mouth.

Leksa scowled, bitter, angry and offended beyond anything else. Onya stared at her old friend with disbelief and perhaps with no small amount of disgust. Onya and Wakuren had fought together in the wars before the Coalition, so Leksa understood that from a personal perspective, Onya meant more to Wakuren than she herself did. The title of "Commander" didn't mean much to Wakuren, it appeared. Though Leksa didn't know what Wakuren and Ahan's relationship had been before Ahan died, she wondered if Wakuren had possessed as lowly an opinion of the title of Heda back then as she possessed now.

Leksa wanted to punish Wakuren. She wanted to lash her. She wanted to throw the older woman overboard and let her soak up some of the icy water before having Kint's crew fish her out. She wanted to slash one of her knives across Wakuren's flesh. But she couldn't. Because a part of her knew that the older was right.

And Wels, as much as she loathed to admit it, was right too.

Maybe being family made a difference.

Leksa, to preserve any dignity she had left, she said coldly, "I will not hear another word of this for the rest of this journey or coming back. Understood?" When she received two nods, she turned around and started walking away. She needed to get away from anyone that wanted to speak their blasted minds. Being around any vocal people wasn't good for her right now.

She didn't even meet the eyes of those that greeted her as she passed by, just stared straight ahead. She glanced at the seething Oktevia, bound to the ship's mast. Leksa huffed out in frustration. If she even gave the council further reason to doubt, she could be dethroned. A Heda had not been dethroned in decades. Since sixty years ago. But if the whisperings that surrounded her from the different messengers from the Azgeda, and the Sankru, Ingranronakru, Trishanakru, Yujledakru, Delfikru and even Floukru and Trikru alike were anything to go by, her position was more dire than she'd like to pretend it was. She wanted to risk everything for Klark. She _would_ risk anything and everything for Klark. But she knew what the consequences of her actions would be. And it could lead to her death. And even war between all tribes. She hated how she had more in common with Oktevia than she had thought before. Oketevia wished to be a part of the Trikru, but didn't come close to being a Trikru as she had shown many times. But she didn't feel like she was one of the Skaikru. Oktevia was trapped.

They were both trapped.

 **Author's note:**

 **Nontu: Trikru word for 'father.'**

 **Kosona: Azgeda word for 'mother.'**

 **Henu: Azgeda word for 'son.'**

 **So a longer segment between Lexa, Wells and Anya than intended, but there you go. I think I launched way more of a rain of fury on Lexa than I intended, but I'll be damned if that didn't feel good. Lexa's such an idiot. Seriously, a whole team of writers, two good seasons (the only good seasons) and** _ **Lexa**_ **is all you can manage as lesbian representation? Really? The world's dumbest commander that almost gets all her people killed by handing bone marrow over to the Mountain Men who have missiles?**

 **I don't imagine Anya making a decision that stupid. It's not about being loyal. It's about making the** _ **intelligent decision**_ **. Something I imagine Lexa would know nothing about. Oh, but we can't have Anya around, can we? Have to shoot her as soon as she and Clarke decide to work together instead of seeing how Anya works with the rest of the group.**

 **And oh yeah, the Grounders that went out after the 100, how many of them were there again? Oh, right, there were 300. 300 trained warriors against one hundred and two not as trained people-Bellamy and Raven. And the Grounders use disease to take some of them down? To soften up the battlefield? I'm sorry, but are we supposed to respect these Grounders after that? The Grounders claim that they're so strong and tough, but when they're faced with 102 people and there are 300 people trained for battle, they do something as cowardly as contaminate the 100's camp with disease?**

 **Right, zero respect EVER given to Grounders, especially to Trikru. They expect to be treated as big,** _ **brave**_ **warriors, but they're nothing but cowards. Don't use disease against these less trained 102, you cowards. Fight like warriors. Oh, no? disease and trying to butcher soft and weak 102 people instead of fighting like warriors? Okay, zero respect given ever.**

 **Lexa is a good commander? Really? When was that? When she had 300 and Tristan sent to murder 102 untrained, soft people and used disease too? Was it when Lexa was dumb enough to fall for Gustus's trick and almost killed an innocent Raven? When she almost killed Octavia because of what Octavia knew? Was it when she gave bone marrow to the Mountain Men and would have gotten the rest of her people killed because she gave it to people who saw her people as savages? Or how about when she wanted Clarke to bow to her even though Clarke was the one that took down the Mountain Men? Lexa, just accept that you fucked up and that you're a coward. Take your failure like an adult, you piece of cowardly shit.**

 **Seriously, Lexa is the best lesbian representation the writers of this series can do? One dimensional, cowardly, immature, stupid and boring? Yeah, yeah, Lexa, keep lecturing. Allow me to roll my eyes and get bored fast. As the band Skillet says in the song "It's not me, it's you," wake me when your lecture ends, your excuses are almost as lame as Abby Griffin's and Bellamy's.**

 **And everything she says is probably either a regurgitated line from Titus, Anya, Indra or Gustus. Even when she tries to turn her peoples' culture around, she just regurgitates Clarke's lines with "blood must not always have blood." Dammit, Lexa, don't you have any original thoughts of your own? "I am Lexa, I am a robot with no will of my own, pity me." It's pathetic.**

 **She might not be as repulsive to me as the shit spewing man-baby that is Bellamy, and I certainly won't automatically see you identifying with her or shipping her with anyone as a huge strike against your person like I would any creepy people-aka, anyone at all that ships Bellamy with anyone or cares about him at all.**

 **But I'll be damned if she isn't one hell of a disappointing, irritating character and a robot. Seriously, does she have ANY opinions of her own?**

 **Really, LGBTIQ community,** _ **this**_ **is who you identify with in this series? You can do better. Unlike Bellamy fans, and any Bellarke fans (basically abuser shippers), I have respect for you and while I don't think Bellboy shippers or fans deserve anything except a pile of decomposing shit, you LGBTIQ fans deserve better.**

 **Go watch some Carmilla, creampuffs. Much better representation, even though they could treat their characters of color better. Watch some freaking Sense8, man. So, so much better than this shit show. Watch it and re-watch it. Because a cancelled two season show like Sense8 is way better than much a series with longer seasons that have the consistency** _ **and**_ **character of rotting shit.**


	19. Wait, we're allying with WHO?

**So since I've made a habit of taking up the last few pages with rants, this time I'll try a prologue of rants. Save the last few pages for plot. Yay. Being somewhat pragmatic. Not much though. So here we are, right below, practically paragraphs of reasons why so many characters in this series suck.**

 **Romanticist Lele:** **Correction, I'm biased against anyone who isn't Raven, Jake Griffin, Monty, Callie, Wells, Lincoln, Niylah, Roan, Anya** _ **and**_ **Clarke. Heck, I don't even mind Finn that much (what he did in season 2? THAT was PTSD, not the sociopathic bullshit Bellamy pulled in season 3 that Bellboy fans always defend) But for the most part, your impression is correct. As for your statement about "mistakes," I have a question, how many of these mistakes are these people making? And how often? These aren't mistakes. These are choices. And they're consistent choices.**

 **They** _ **chose**_ **their selfishness before letting thousands or millions of people on the Ark coming down, at the risk of the Ark peoples' lives. All millions or thousands of those lives. In season two, in the Mountain, the sky kids, save for Clarke** _ **chose**_ **to listen to total strangers over a girl who had risked** _ **everything**_ **for them. In season 3 and what little I know or care about in season 4, those idiots** _ **chose**_ **to treat Clarke like garbage and not offer her support even though she was in dire need of a support system. They** _ **chose**_ **to be abusive. Like parasites that only take and give nothing back.**

 **Abby** _ **chose**_ **to get her own husband killed, chose to get her daughter sent down to a dangerous place, probably not even caring if her daughter survived or not. The 100 were just a means to an end. She** _ **chose**_ **to use Finn's death against Clarke when Clarke didn't do exactly as Abby expected in Ton DC-in order to shame her. That was seriously a disgusting thing to do, even for her. Abby** _ **chose**_ **to challenge Clarke's authority every chance she got, even though Clarke was everyone's best chance at survival. Abby** _ **chose**_ **to neglect and verbally deride Clarke in season 3 and what little I know or care about season 4. You know, even though that's her daughter and her daughter is in serious need of a support system by that point, but gets none. And you know, Clarke's the only one keeping them alive?**

 **In season three, Bellamy** _ **chose**_ **to get Pike elected.** _ **Chose**_ **to help kill 300 people in their sleep.** _ **Chose**_ **to risk starting a war, even though he knew that Clarke was in Polis with Grounders and might be in danger of being killed for those dead three hundred warriors. He** _ **chose**_ **to lead Clarke on and get her to trust him and then handcuff her and almost give her up to Pike to die. He** _ **chose**_ **to cut her down and blame her for everything when he was the one that killed 300 people. He** _ **chose**_ **to attack a village full of children and unarmed people. In season four, the rest of the sky people** _ **choose**_ **not to see how things are and that they have to look out for their own survival.**

 **It's not just about being biased. It's about seeing things for how they are. Being honest. How many of these idiotic "mistakes" are we going to allow these kids to do before giving up on them? There's such a thing as "enabling," you know. And with Bellamy it wasn't any "mistake." It was a choice to murder 150 people on the Ark, almost kill thousands and thousands on the Ark and choosing to kill 300 people in their sleep and taking it out on Clarke because "oh, boo-hoo, you left me, waaaah. I want you to change my diapers, waaah. Mommy, clean my mess up for me. I'm a full-grown man, but I need a girl who's barely an adult to clean up my mess for me. Waaaah."**

 **It was Bellamy who** _ **chose**_ **to basically show that he was the best example needed of a verbal abuser when he** _ **chose**_ **to trick Clarke into trusting him, then handcuffed her and mentally abused her by telling her that every time she was in control it "ended in death," even though he killed quite a few more people than she had by that point. He certain intended to after that. How many chances should we give this abusive man-baby? He doesn't want a friend or a fellow leader. He wants a nanny that will clean up his shit every time he fucks up. How many more chances should we allow these abusive idiots?**

 **Mablung12:** **Well sure, I understand the appeal of** _ **that.**_ **But when the person that you're supposedly identifying with has the IQ that's as sharp as, and I quote Foghorn Leghorn from Looney Tunes on this, "as sharp as a bowling ball" then maybe it's not such a good idea. And as for the short-term thing. Yeah, I know. Short-term. That's the problem. Emphasis on "short." If they had peace, they were going to have for only a short period of time before the newly juiced up Mountain Men came knocking on all Grounders' doors, demanding more land because they see Grounders as savages. In other words, Lexa's short sighted and knows nothing about the long-term effects of her actions. In other words, "Sharp as a bowling ball." Which makes her useless as a leader. But if you insist on supporting someone with only three brain cells in her head, then I guess I shouldn't judge you. I'd like my characters with a little more than only three brain cells, you know?**

 **Fireman12468:** **I know. Yeah, they really screwed up with cancelling that show. All the more point why that Netflix doesn't give a shit about LGBTIQ rights. They'll just throw in "Orange is the New Black" and are just like, "Okay, that's one show, now leave these nice, straight people alone." I saw the final episode. It was amazing.**

 **Ro:** **I know, right? People actually think that bowing was a good idea? Great, so now you're letting Lexa know that she can get away with anything. I would not trust those Grounders ever after that. Unless the bowing ended up being Clarke eventually betraying Lexa as an act of revenge, which I totally would have been behind, I just don't see it. But of course, Rothenberg wouldn't be smart enough to do anything as interesting as that.**

 **AHisthename:** **Thank you. It's nice to think someone thinks so. I guess..."refreshing" is one thing to call my rants, lol.**

 **Guest:** **Precisely. It's a way to vent. Thank you. Glad you see it that way. Just vent out all the bullshit. It will feel better.**

 **Trigger warnings for violence, mentions of past rape and cannibalism. Yes, you read that correctly. Cannibalism.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 19: Wait, we're allying with WHO?:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

After the feast and the many, many murmurs that followed, Clarke and everyone else were dismissed and Clarke, by instinct, walked towards her main room, holding Farron's hand, knowing that she was being followed. There was no threat though. It was just her family and the queen most likely knew she would need to discuss the recent even with them. So there would be no suspicion cast their way at all.

Clarke was watching from the doorway of her room as the traffic jam began to file forward through the hall to her room. Since cars had all gone the way of the dinosaurs since the bombs hit, Clarke could safely say that she had never seen a traffic jam for herself. But she could only assume that this was what the human version of it looked like. Linden, Lane and the other kids had gone to their training, all looking at Clarke like they didn't know what to think of her decision. The many grim-faced and angered teenagers that followed Clarke to her room told Clarke that she needed to give them some answers. Quickly. Farron squeezed her hand next to her, looking up at her where he stood. She looked down at him and shared a smile with her. Farron, despite his age, despite the abuse he had suffered at his father's hands, wanted to be there for her. Was trying to be strong for her. She squeezed his hand back, starting to move towards the room, Farron following.

When all of them had filed into the room, West, Martin, Sabine and Bailey staying outside of the room, guarding, making sure no one approached the room and potentially listened in, the door closed.

Clarke looked at the insanity she was seeing. It would have been funny if it wasn't so important and dire. From the fireplace and the door, Glenn, Rora, Beryl, Cameron, Mario, Kristin, Christopher, David, Paul, Edmund, Finley and Dallas made up a row of people. After them and closer to the wall to the right, from the fireplace to the door were Frank, Kozarr, Casey, Jesse, Hodge, Parker, Simone, Lorena, Bobbi, Blair, Cody and Avery made up the next row. And Farron was at her side. Ontari was behind her.

Clarke tried not to chuckle, despite the situation. Her room was one of the largest, given her status. But she hadn't thought all these people could fit in here, with all the weapons and furniture. Her swords, ax and bow and quiver of arrows were propped up against the right wall. The second row of people were only three feet from the weapons. Her art supplies; her marked up papers, pencils, sticks of charcoal, small paintbrushes and small stone bowls of what made "paint" here in Azgeda were all cluttered up in the farthest left corner of the room. Two feet behind the first row of people.

Glenn, Rora, Frank and Kozarr, the four closest to the fireplace were just next to the stone square of the entrance of the fireplace, avoiding the small flames still billowing about. When the fire went out, there were still the lit coals stuffed into he ravines of the room and in the stone bowls at the edges of those ravines to keep them warm.

Clarke sighed, gently tugging on Farron's arm and he followed her across the room, going past the second row of people, going around the closest people to the door, Cody and Avery and went to the other side of the room, Clarke facing all of the kids. Ontari walked over and went between Clarke, Farron and the kids, going around to Clarke's right side. Clarke nodded to Ontari and faced the others again. She was sure this silence was because the others wanted to make sure that no one was listening.

As soon as a few seconds had passed and they were sure that Martin, Bailey, Sabine and West were the only ones in the hallway, Christopher, David, Parker and Finley faced Clarke, anger and confusion written all over their faces. "Answers, Clarke." Parker snapped, " _Now._ " Clarke sighed. Ontari hissed, "Watch your tongue, Pakah." "No," Clarke said gently to Ontari, turning to her lover and placing a hand on the other's shoulder. "It's okay. All of you have the right to be upset and to ask questions. Alright." Clarke looked at everyone as they all settled into the room. "Everyone just calm down. I'm sorry, okay? I know you didn't want me to deal with this alone. And thank you for that. I _do_ know you meant everything you said before and it means everything to me. But Emerson? He has to die now. I have to get rid of him now. And it has to be me."

Cody gave Clarke a disbelieving glance. "Why? Didn't we talk about this?"

"Yes," Clarke said dryly, "We did. It's not like I could miss any of your opinions on the matter." She smiled appreciatively at Kristin, Mario, Finley, Bobbi and the others. "But it's gotten more complicated. A lot more complicated. Emerson….he's the last thread between me, Lexa and Anya. I know that sounds weird. But he is. He was the one that made the deal at the mountain and taunted my people. He's the one last remaining link between me, Lexa and Anya. And I can't have that in my life anymore. I can't have any reminders of them anymore. Not after what I found out."

Those words put an end to the demanding looks that Clarke was receiving. "What you found out?" Bobbi asked, dark brown eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"What are you talking about?" David grumbled, the brown haired boy scrunching his face up, "You're just being cryptic."

"Dayvid-" Ontari warned, but Clarke shook her head. "It's fine."

She took a breath and announced a little louder, knowing that Martin, Sabine, West and Bailey would keep everyone else away, "The queen showed me something on a map in her room. Has anyone heard of the village 'Deyorele?'" Clarke felt Ontari stiffen next to her and she was sure that Ontari had suspected what the queen had revealed to her long ago.

"Yeah," Kristin said, shrugging. "You told us about it."

"That village you and your people accidentally…" Mario stopped himself, as if knowing he had said too much when Kristin elbowed him.

Clarke nodded. "Right. Or so I thought. Here's the thing though, that village hasn't existed for at least eighty or seventy years. It was burned down by bandits when the new civilization started to form. The 'Deyorele' that Lexa and Anya told me about was destroyed long ago and me and none of my people in the Trikru territory had anything to do with it."

The answer she gave to her family resulted in the exact reaction Clarke had been expecting from them.

Silence, then gradually, one by one, there was shock, confusion and anger.

"Wait, hold up." Edmund said, face scrunching up in befuddlement, working hand going to his limp hand, tenderly pressing against the scars in pain. "If that village burned down all those years ago, and you and the other 100 weren't even there at the time, then why'd they tell you-?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Parker asked, face reddening in anger. "To get Clarke and the others thinking that they did something wrong." "Yeah," Cody agreed, smooth black hair flipping as she nodded, teeth grinding, copper cheeks turning a dark color in her anger. "They were trying to get Clarke and the rest of the 100 to owe them something."

Edmund's face was now marred with horror and disgust.

Cameron's face contorted into a mask identical nearly to Edmund's face. "That's so deceitful and dirty."

Christopher said numbly, mouth dropping, "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Yeah. It _is_ dirty and deceitful. Don't need to tell _me_ that." Clarke agreed. "But let's be honest. After what Lexa did at the mountain, are _any_ of you surprised?" She saw all of her family getting tense and angry about what they had heard, but saw a few of them nod. Unfortunately, this was not too much of a surprise for some of them. They already thought the worst of Lexa and Anya after what they had been told about those two Trikru when it came to Mount Weather.

This was just confirming their worst possible thoughts on Lexa and Anya.

If they were angry at Lexa and Anya now, Clarke knew it would make them infuriated when she told them what else she had realized about Lexa and Anya. She did not have any proof about this, no, but it was hard to dispute this theory, considering it made too much sense. She glanced at Ontari who was looking guilty and she had a suspicion as to why. Ontari had probably suspected that Lexa and Anya had been lying for a long time about the village 'Deyorele.' But she hadn't said anything because she hadn't wanted Clarke to suffer worse.

Clarke didn't appreciate that secret being kept from her. But she understood it. Two months ago, maybe even a few days ago, she might not have. But after experiencing what she had experienced when Nia had told her about the real Deyorele, she almost couldn't blame her Ontari. It had felt like her heart had been ripped out all over again, just like at the mountain. Ontari had just been protecting her. She didn't appreciate it, but she _did_ understand it.

She placed a gentle hand against Ontari's back, earning a startled look from the black-haired woman. She smiled at the other woman. She would talk with Ontari about it later.

She turned to the others. "That's not even the worst of it." She said sadly. "It turns out Lexa and Anya were lying about our relationship from the start. Lexa, Anya and my relationship? It was all a farce. It was all for show. They tricked me. They got me to think that they actually loved me. And after that? They led me into a trap. They led the rest of my people to Mount Weather and gave them to the Mountain Men."

A grim smile touched Clarke's face, letting the knowledge sink in all over again. "Our relationship was all a trap. A lie from the beginning."

She watched as the horror ran across the room, dawning on each of her family's faces.

She slowly turned to Ontari to see what her lover thought of this. Ontari's eyes widened and they hardened slowly. "You're sure?" Ontari asked, voice quiet.

Clarke shook her head. "I don't have proof. But it's the only thing that makes sense. Ontari, you know that the Commander would do anything to keep control over what she considered a threat. Anything. And I suspect if it meant lying to my people about a village, then that was a small price to pay. And lying to _me?_ Tricking me into giving her the rest of my people so she could give them to the Mountain Men and make sure that the rest of her people were left alone was clearly a small price too."

It really hurt, thinking about how little her peoples' lives meant to Lexa and Anya at the end of the day. They weren't even pawns to her. They were livestock to be traded off.

Well, there was soon to be satisfaction in knowing that Lexa and Anya would soon see who the new queens of Azgeda were and that the Sky people no longer answered directly to either of them, but to their queens.

Which led Clarke to what she was going to say next when she heard Bobbi's disgusted words.

"Those little….," The dark-skinned, thick-haired girl's mouth became a hard grimace, "Were they ever capable of loving anyone?!"

Beryl looked stunned. Like someone had hit her. Her brown eyes were cast to the stone floor, looking shocked. Clarke couldn't blame the girl. She knew Beryl hung onto the little naivety she had left here. And she thought that at the very least that Lexa and Anya had loved Clarke, even though they had both left her to die. Clarke had thought they loved her too. She had been wrong. She hated that Beryl's faith in humanity was crumbling more and more, bit by bit. But there it was.

Cameron's face contorted into anger, venomous anger for a moment before she smoothed her countenance out.

Casey's eyes were narrowed and her large frame shook with unusual anger. If anyone who didn't know her saw, they likely would have been frightened of the tall Chinese girl. Jesse's lower jaw was clenched, but she laid her right hand over Casey's wrist, slowly calming the other girl down.

Parker spat, being held in a firm grip by Simone, "You're fucking kidding me. Everything they said was a lie. Fuck. Talk about fake. Lexa and Anya probably don't even care about their people. They just claim they do. But all they care about is their damn power!"

Finley shook her head. "I know it would technically be an act of war, but could we find a loophole somewhere, where we could kill Anya and Lexa slowly?"

Clarke laughed, not even finding Finley's suggestion a safety hazard for them. Considering that was the queen's plan all along, if anyone heard, which she doubted, thanks to Sabine, West, Martin and Bailey, then that said someone wouldn't mind.

"No, Finley." She said dryly, "Tempting as it is. No. As much as I hate what they did, killing Lexa would create a power vacuum. And we can't have that. Power vacuums never end well. Even if I have a rough idea about which Nightblood will take the throne after Lexa's death, there's no telling if that nightblood will be as open to negotiation when he gets older." Her thoughts went to young Aden. A nightblood. Stronger and more skilled than the rest. And most likely would have the "blessing" of killing his friends and becoming the next Commander when Lexa died and the conclave came. The rest of her family begrudgingly nodded at Clarke's words. She knew the words "power vacuum" were alien words to Ontari and Farron and Rora, but she'd explain it to them later.

She was surprised when she saw Rora not look confused by the words. Had Glenn told her what "power vacuum" meant? Then again, that kind of made sense. Given Glenn's heritage and the complicated history behind it, his ancestors on the Earth that was before the bombs would have seen many power vacuums and struggles for power and his ancestors would have been the casualties of it because they would be used as the "scapegoats."

Clarke knew she needed to tell her family about the rest of the Sky people in the Trikru territory eventually being brought here under the queen's command. But she needed to make her point clear to them first. "Now do you understand?" Clarke said, hoping they got it. She hoped they all, including Ontari understood what she was doing. "Emerson…he might be barely involved because he didn't _make_ either Anya or Lexa do what they did. But he's still involved. He's the last piece that holds Anya and Lexa in my life. The last strand. A constant reminder. If that reminder is killed faster, I will happily commit the act myself."

She now, instead of seeing confusion, shock, anger, she saw comprehension and even some satisfaction.

"Good." Bobbi said, lips parting a little, her teeth shown off. "Better get rid of that piece of shit sooner rather than later. But I want to see you do it. I don't want you to be there alone." Clarke snorted. "You know it's going to be public. The last Mountain Man? You know that that's going to end up having a huge audience of people all cheering for his death. It was already a big deal for a "Helrer" to be done. It was reserved for the worst of the worst of the enemies of the Azgeda. So of course, there were going to be thousands of people watching even without Emerson being there. But since it was the last Mountain Man, there would be millions of people watching.

The others nodded around Clarke. "Yeah." Finley growled. "I'm watching too." "Same." David said, looking less fierce for once. "I'm not leaving you alone with this." Kristin nodded. "I won't either." Mario nodded. "You want to sever the last bond between you, Lexa and Anya?" Mario said. "Then I'm with you on this the whole way."

Paul added, nodding, "And give him a few cuts on our behalves."

Blair, Avery, Christopher, Frank, Kozarr, Edmund, Hodge, Dallas, Cody, Bobbi, Cameron, Beryl, Simone, Lorena and Parker all nodded.

Casey nodded, growling, "I'll watch. And I want him to know just how badly he fucked up when he used Lexa's power against you." Clarke nodded. Of all the kids in this group that were from the Ark, besides herself, Casey, Jesse, Finley, Cameron, Beryl and Paul seemed to hate Emerson the most for some reason.

"Same," Glenn said, Stepping closer. "But don't forget yourself. This isn't about revenge, right? Not all of it, at least?"

Clarke smiled, reassured. They were looking out for her. Even though she was making it clear that she was going to kill Emerson in one of the worst ways imaginable, they were looking out for her. Clarke nodded. "No, it's not just about revenge. Sure, it will feel good to kill him in that way. But it's more than that. It's just a way of getting rid of the reminder of Lexa and Anya. It's solace. It's a way of ending what was between me, Lexa and Anya for good." Clarke turned to Ontari who was looking back at her with pain, but soft understanding and Clarke again for what felt like the millionth time felt like she could kiss Ontari silly. Her beautiful entarg would be there for her. Wouldn't abandon her. And knew what she needed. Clarke half wished the rest of her family wasn't here so that she could _show_ Ontari herself just _how_ much she loved Ontari.

She reached her right hand out and placed it gently on the left side of Ontari's face. Ontari smiled just a little and leaned into Clarke's hand.

"Uh, guys?" Christopher coughed, "Just to let you know, you should probably keep it PG rated." Clarke turned around and gave Christopher a dry look and he shrugged. Next to him, Kristin and Mario were smirking and Avery, Blair and Finley were giggling. Glenn and Rora were smiling fondly and Bobbi was rolling her eyes, probably thinking of something sarcastic.

Clarke chuckled, turning back to Ontari and slowly pulled away, earning a nod from Ontari. Clarke stepped back, turning and looking at everyone else. She was grateful for all their support. But they needed to know the rest.

Farron came close and sided up next to Clarke as Clarke expected, leaning against her. She wrapped her left arm around his shoulders and looked around at the others.

Clarke kept speaking, keeping her voice low. This was the part that she knew she'd have to really try to calm them down over. "Thank you. I know I can trust all of you. But there's more. The queen is happy with our…work as her generals. But she wants more. She wants another army." Finley gave Clarke an aggravated look, "Man, we've been making allies all over the place with different villages. What more does that damn woman want?"

Clarke said sadly, again, grateful for Finley's sake that no one but four of their group being able to hear them outside the door, "There's a lot she wants. Technology. Advanced medicine. And a new army. An army from the sky."

There was a series of confused looks again, but Clarke saw that all five Glenn, Rora, Avery, Kristin and Cody catch on as their eyes widened and comprehension slowly was birthed on their faces. Followed by horror.

"Oh shit." Cody said. Clarke nodded. "Yep."

The others who did not catch on looked at them. "What?" Finley asked, eyes narrowing.

"Finley," Glenn said quietly, "Think about it. The queen already has us and Clarke. So by army of the sky, what do you think the queen means? What other sky people are on Earth that she could bring here and that she could use against Clarke?"

Soon more realization filled the room. More "oh shits" filled the room too.

Clarke nodded. They were getting it. "Wait," Ontari said and Clarke turned to the other.

"Your people?" Ontari asked, eyebrow lifting when she looked at Clarke, "In the Trikru territory?"

Clarke nodded again. "That's right. The queen wants them to come here. She wants them to come and live here under her rule. To be her servants and little soldiers."

Clarke didn't even need to look at Simone to know the girl was shaking her head. "That'll end badly."

"No kidding." Bobbi said. "Those idiots will get themselves killed as soon as they get here. They're not disciplined enough to keep their heads low and not die horribly." Clarke sighed. It was exactly as she had thought the 100's behavior would be. Not that different from the behavior of the rest of her people in the Trikru territory. They were undisciplined, untrusting, paranoid, petty.

One small thing that didn't go their way and her people in the Trikru's land went ballistic like the world was going to end. She had left mainly because she couldn't cope with being reminded by what she had seen whenever she looked at them. But she left too because she genuinely believed that they'd be better off without her. She had learned personally with Miller and the others in the Mountain that they didn't want her help. So maybe it was better not having someone who committed mass murder to keep them safe around them. But were they okay? How were they handling life in the Trikru territory? She knew them enough to know that they were not coping well by now. Maybe good by their standards, and of course her mom, Kane, Raven, Wells, Bellamy, Octavia, Lincoln, Harper and Finn would try to keep things stable.

But she wasn't going to delude herself. They tended to not be able to handle it when things went bad.

And being brought here, to Azgeda? Where they would be expected to do actual jobs, work, be adults and follow orders? This could end…badly. Really badly unless someone spoke to them and explained that to just remain _alive_ then they had to stay quiet and obedient.

That was why she needed to send those letters. They needed to hear it from her that it was safe. Then again, how would they know it was her?

Mario interrupted her thoughts. "Shit. That's really, really gonna go bad fast. Maybe Raven, Wells, Monty, Harper, Charlotte and Finn will learn fast, but everyone else?" Clarke nodded. She appreciated Mario remembering who would be cooperative, or at least who was most likely to be cooperative. She had told her family as much as she could about her friends and mom back in the Trikru territory. She had tried to cast all of her friends in a good light. But she wasn't going to lie to her family. So as a result, they knew what some of their choices had been in the past.

And her family didn't think too highly of them.

Well, not most of them anyway.

Her family held Wells, Raven, Bellamy, Lincoln, Monty, Harper, Monroe, Sterling, Charlotte and even Finn in high regards, despite Finn's lying to her when they had first come down to Earth. Even though they weren't too happy with the information they received about Bellamy treating Wells and Clarke like dirt the first couple of days, they saw that the guy had come through in the end. Clarke had wisely kept the secret about Bellamy throwing the radio into the river from all of them. Heck knew that she didn't want Finley out for Bellamy's blood if she discovered that it was him that had disposed of Raven's radio.

But everyone else? Octavia who had told Clarke in the tunnels of the mountain that Clarke trying her best 'wasn't good enough?' Miller and the others who were so quick to trust the Mountain Men and disregarded Clarke's warnings so easily? Her own mother who had gotten her father killed and was willing to let her best friend and brother, Wells take the fall, all to preserve her relationship with her daughter? The same woman who had used Jasper's death against her, saying "you can't wipe your hands clean this time" after Ton DC? Those particular people might as well be dead already in Clarke's new family's eyes.

Clarke had tried to mention how good some of them were, how helpful. But it didn't matter. The twenty-six and the younger kids had all made up their own opinions and for most of the 100 and Clarke's mother and the other adults, the opinions had not been very high ones.

And Lexa and Anya of course might as well have been evil incarnate in their eyes.

"But that?" Hodge growled, looking like he was going to be sick. "I mean…sure, it's bad that the queen wants to bring the rest of your people here. But are we surprised? But god…I didn't think the Commander and Anya were that depraved."

Kozarr shook his head. "I don't believe it's much of a surprise." His dark eyes were downcast. "My mother and father always told me about how the new commander treated our people since she took control of the tribes." The dark-skinned, seventeen-year-old shuddered. Frank stepped closer to his entarg, worried. Kozarr said in disgust, "Even before Kostia, this Heda, she never treated our people well. She treated us like all the Hedas had before her. We were the savages of the twelve tribes. We could get the least amount of traded goods. We would always get the least amount of horses for transportation when we needed new ones from the Ingranronakru. Even when the breeding went badly between the horses we got. Even after the current Commander took control, that didn't change. And our cattle situation has been no different, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Kozarr looked at Clarke and the blonde nodded. She hated to admit it, but now that she really thought about it, that explained a lot of what she had seen in the Azgeda lands.

These people were strong and could prosper in the most desolate of lands. She wouldn't be surprised if they would be just as strong and resilient in the Sankru territory. But it didn't change that their strength and their brutality most likely resulted from their unforgiving environment. And what made that environment worse? It was having less food and resources than everyone else. And it had become common knowledge amongst the Azgeda, and Clarke and her family that the Azgeda were the ones that were given the least resources of all the twelve tribes.

Before the Sky people came down, the Azgeda were the ones that got the shortest end of the stick. Even shorter than the Sankru.

The Sankru were just in as desolate environment as the Azgeda people, but the Sankru were given by far better resources and food than the Azgeda ever were. And far more of it than the Azgeda.

Why? Even before Costia, the Azgeda had been considered pariahs. Clarke didn't need to live in the Ice Nation as long as she had with her family to know. That was a fact. When she and Wells had been living in Polis, and some Azgeda politicians had shown up, there had been nothing but scorn for them. And this scorn went back a while. Long before Costia was ever stolen from Lexa. She knew because of the history she had gleaned from the other tribes when she and Wells had lived in Polis. Things they said here and there about their interactions with the Azgeda before Lexa had even ascended to being the Commander.

For some reason, the Azgeda always drew the short straw.

Ontari had told Clarke her peoples' history and her mother's family's history, but none of it really added up with why the Azgeda were always treated with such disdain.

"And the seeds needed for the stronger plants, I've noticed." Clarke acknowledged, remembering all the quickly dying plants in the rows of the farmers all around the countryside on the days she had seen when riding with Ontari, Blair Beryl, Cody and some others. The plants, especially any vegetable plants didn't last long around here. Mostly that was because of the cold, but even without the cold, even the most durable plants like turnips, parsnips and the like had withered and died quickly. Clarke didn't want to think about it, but considering the pattern of the living and dying cycles of the different batches of vegetables, not to mention the general agreement from all Azgeda was that the vegetables were the worst batches that could be given to them from the other tribes.

The Azgeda grew their own crops that were native to this land too, of course. But sometimes the winters were particularly bad, and sometimes they needed additional crops.

This did not seem to make a difference to the other tribes.

The lives of thousands of people in villages didn't seem to be important to the other tribes.

The fact that there were masses of villages, thousands of people that most likely would starve to death or freeze to death because of lack of rations or good rations, which they were deprived of by the other tribes, would not make a difference to those other eleven tribes. The only thing that mattered to the eleven tribes, it seemed, was making the Azgeda know that they were "lowly" and "savage" compared with the rest of the tribes.

Having spoken with some older warriors who had been witnesses to the tribes' interactions even before Costia, Clarke knew that the lack of good rations had been dumped on the Azgeda for quite a long time now. Long before Lexa even came along as the Commander.

The general agreement amongst all tribes that weren't the Ice Nation, was that the Azgeda were the most vile of the people on Earth, besides the Mountain Men. That was until the Sky people came down.

As for Lexa? She had been raised as the Commander since she was nine by Titus of all people. And Clarke knew very well that Titus favored some very unsavory beliefs. He always regarded the Azgeda with hate. Repulsion. She remembered him often telling Lexa in Polis that after Lexa was done wiping out the Sky People, she should turn her attention on the Azgeda. Again, Clarke had gotten confirmation that Titus had held these beliefs even before Costia had been taken. Titus had sneered to Lexa that the Azgeda had been a "blemish" on the rest of the tribes since the moment the tribes had come into being. Which told Clarke that Titus had always thought that way about the Azgeda.

Even when Lexa had formed the coalition, Titus had warned his Commander against welcoming the Azgeda into such a coaltion. And from what Clarke remembered from what Anya had told her, that again had been before Costia had ever even been abducted.

And of course, Lexa being Lexa had eaten up all of Titus's teachings faster a wildfire ate at dry wood. And she had just spit out Titus's same beliefs when it came to the Ice Nation. It gave Clarke the grotesque impression that Lexa was just a parrot for Titus's beliefs, mimicking his every claim.

After Lexa had become the Commander? She never gave protection to Azgeda when bandits attacked. When other armies attacked Azgeda's main kingdom, Lexa never offered any aid. She left bandits and the rival armies to what they were doing. Some of this had been before Costia. But even after Costia, Clarke wasn't sure she would be able to understand it. Lexa was condemning the entirety of Azgeda, thousands and thousands of people, including the children, all for the death of one girl. _One girl._ It was astounding.

Clarke knew that she and her family were responsible for thousands of deaths too to keep themselves and each other safe, but they were going to overthrow the queen and install new laws. Save Azgeda from the queen. But Lexa? She never tried to help anyone who was from the Azgeda. The Azgeda might as well be a moot point to Lexa as far as helping another tribe was concerned. But Lexa still expected the help of Azgeda. She took all of Azgeda's resources and help and offered nothing back. Clarke was weirdly reminded of the conversation she had with her family a few days ago. The conversation about the rest of the Sky people back in the Trikru's territory. About the 100 being parasites. It was a disturbing comparison. And while Clarke tried to argue with her family's logic, a lot of the things they had said made sense. And those things her family had said made a lot of sense when she thought about Lexa taking everything she could from the Azgeda, and giving no protection back.

She let raiders and bandits do as they wished, never offering any help. Never giving more men when enemy armies attacked. Nothing. And when Lexa traveled the different tribes for the sake of politics? Lexa never once had visited the Azgeda. She had made her snubbing of the Azgeda abundantly clear to all the tribes, giving them more than enough room to treat the Azgeda the same exact way.

Children, when in Polis and training with other children or being in battle with the other tribes' children, were often spit on and bullied. They were called beasts and savages and worms-amongst other appalling names. Clarke remembered this one Azgeda girl in Polis who had gained a black eye from one of the Trikru children. Clarke hadn't seen the girl's face, since the girl's dark brown hair had been blocking most of her face and the girl had been gripping at the black eye. But Clarke had seen enough of the bruise to know. And the girl had gotten the beating from the Trikru boy when the adults weren't looking. When Clarke had pointed it out to Lexa, Lexa had simply scolded the boy. But now that Clarke thought about it, she, even back then, had felt like Lexa's words were false to the boy, Reeli.

She hadn't learned the Azgeda girl's name, but had seen that Lexa had shown no concern where the girl had been concerned. It was horrifying to realize, but there had been red flags popping up all over in front of her when it came to Lexa and Anya, and Clarke just hadn't allowed herself to see it.

Clarke never understood the rest of the tribes' hatred of the Azgeda. And having decided that she was ultimately an Azgeda, Clarke could understand it even less. As far as she was concerned, this wasn't just a sign of prejudice, which by itself was already an unforgivable form of heinousness. This was an affront to her people, to the Azgeda.

The only people that had ever treated the Azgeda fairly had been the Floukru. They had given equal and good shares of their supplies and fish and nets and boats to the Azgeda without hesitation. And they had only gotten away with it recently because Luna was their new leader. It was Luna's fairness that Clarke knew Titus had criticized over and over again, back in Polis.

It was times, realizing that, that Clarke had to wonder if there might have actually been a good reason for Costia's abduction. Even torture. It was a horrible thought, but knowing everything that Clarke knew now made her wonder if Costia had been a move made out of desperation. A bad move, sure, but considering how horrible it had been, had the queen actually been desperate? The thought was jarring, since she knew the queen to be ruthless and merciless. But she knew that Nia was more complex than just a monster. If only it was so simple as labeling Nia as a "monster." But it wasn't. Not like the Trikru would have liked to think it was.

If Ontari's story of Nia's family history and Nia's abusive husband, Aldo was anything to go by, then Nia had a type of complex that made her paranoid about letting anyone that wasn't her in control of her life.

So taking Costia may very well have been a move to try to gain some leverage in a coalition that the queen knew was going to be unfair. Because the Azgeda had always been treated unfairly. Why would a coalition change that?

That weirdly enough was a struggle that Clarke actually found herself sympathizing with.

"So," She said, looking at Kozarr, considering the somber thoughts she had roving around in her skull, "You think there's a strong possibility that the Commander really did do what I believe she did?" Kozarr nodded, dark skin paling as he thought of everything. "I hate to think of it as a possibility. But the Commander IS that kind of coward."

Clarke nodded. No, it wouldn't surprise her either. It wouldn't surprise her that the Azgeda had always been treated like fairytale monsters. And Lexa, being the idealistic fool that she was, bought _into_ the fairytale growing up. And so she had treated the Azgeda no differently than all the other Commanders and tribes had before her. Like they were savages. Monsters. Lowly beasts that should get the worst of the batch of supplies, or _no_ supplies at all.

Clarke was starting to wonder if Lexa had ever had an opinion of her own. She'd find it sad if the Commander wasn't so unsympathetic and wasn't oppressing her beloved Azgeda. It was strange how repulsive Clarke found Lexa's idealism now. The other woman's simplicity was ridiculously horrid.

"Well," Clarke said grimly, "This brings us back to square one. What do we do?"

Finley growled, probably thinking about everything she had just been told. She shook her head. "If the Commander and Anya led you on like that and lied about that village burning down, then who knows what else she'll do?" Cody nodded. "Yeah, they might be idiots, but your people in the Trikru territory aren't safe there." Clarke smiled appreciatively at Cody. Good, she got it. "So you know why they have to come here, right?" She asked, lifting her eyebrows up.

Cody nodded.

Glenn stepped forward, Rora watching him as he said, "Well, yes, we understand that. But your people in the Trikru territory are…bad tempered and well…" Glenn shifted, as if worried about how he phrased what he said next.

"Dumb, Glenn," Kristin chuckled, "Don't worry. I think we can call them dumb." Glenn sighed and glared at Kristin who was smirking, as was Mario. Glenn turned back to Clarke who rolled her eyes at the display, smiling fondly. "What I mean to say is if they come here now, then their rashness will be the death of them. If the queen is still in power." Glenn finished, the last part coming out quieter, by instinct, Clarke was sure. However, she was certain that Martin, Sabine, West and Bailey were keeping them safe.

Clarke nodded. It had been exactly as she had thought when she had first thought about the 100 and the rest of the Sky People in the Trikru's territory coming here. They would be hot tempered and let their confusion get the best of them, even if the queen weren't in control and Clarke and Ontari were who they'd have to answer to. Them being here and someone like queen Nia still being in control? That would be a disaster and get many of them killed.

Clarke still had that scenario that she had thought up before when the queen had entertained the possibility of the rest of her people in Trikru territory coming here. In that gruesome scenario inevitably, Octavia, Lincoln and Bellamy had died, Raven, Monty and her mother had become slaves because of their abilities and the rest of her people in that group were forced into servitude of some kind. The considered "weaker ones" like Charlotte, Sterling, Fox, Harper and the rest would be killed off to make the army stronger.

It was a horrifying scenario, one Clarke was sure was unavoidable if her people were brought here now with the queen in control. Dread spread out more when she thought of Wells here. He had gotten stronger, sure. But how would he react if he saw all the pain she had been put through? How would he react, knowing she had been whipped, branded, cut, beaten? He would flip out and she knew it. All of what she had done aside, seeing her having all the damage done to her would make Wells snap. See red. And if Charlotte was deemed as "weak" and killed for it? Wells was going to snap anyway, wasn't he? Clarke shuddered. Wells would be in too much danger here. Unlike Raven and Monty and her mother, he had no specific skill set that would make him irreplaceable. Killing him would mean nothing to the queen.

She tried not to gasp in pain at the thought. Her beloved childhood friend and big brother being killed by the queen. More than likely in some inventive and torturous manner.

Her breath was harsher than she'd like and she felt the worried glances coming her way. Farron's grip on her hand tightened. And she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. "Klark." She heard Ontari say to her gently, leaning in and pressing her forehead against the side of her entarg's head. Ontari stroked her left hand down the back of Clarke's head. "It's alright, baby," Clarke said, her free hand going to Ontari's wrist that was draped around Clarke's front, on her left shoulder, squeezing it. She had already told Ontari what the name of endearing meant, "baby." Ontari had found it ridiculous, but had welcomed it nonetheless. "It's fine. I need to see this through."

It didn't matter how stressed or frightened she felt. She had to think about her people. All of them.

She looked at Ontari, staring into the other's dark, protective eyes. "It's okay, Ontari. It's okay. I need to talk about this." She gave another encouraging squeeze to Ontari's wrist and the black-haired young woman sighed, releasing Clarke, stepping back only a little. She made sure to stay close, in case Clarke showed signs of distress again. Clarke smiled at her, before looking back at her worried family.

"I'm good, guys," She promised them. She took a breath before continuing, "In any case, if the other Sky people come here, while the queen is in control, that increases the danger for them highly. As you guys put it, they're rash. Really rash. Nia being in power makes it more dangerous for them. Which means that we need to speed things up." "Yeah," Bobbi said, stepping closer, eyebrows up, "I was worried about that. But by that time, we won't have enough allies. I mean, all the other villages will help, I'm sure. But we're not flanked from all sides. We would be if we had more time to make allies."

Clarke nodded, glancing at Ontari who was staring at her tenderly. For her and Ontari, this was a somewhat mixed blessing. They loved each other. In different ways from the other and they both knew it. No, Clarke did not love Ontari in the same way she had loved Anya and Lexa. But she did love Ontari without question. They loved each other. And Clarke knew she wanted to spend the rest of her days here with Ontari. This was her home and Ontari her entarg. A closer time for the union, being the marriage would be a good thing. Not to mention it would solidify the bond between her people and the Azgeda. But it also meant that as Bobbi had said, they wouldn't have the allies they needed in time.

Which left only one grim option. Clarke knew damn well that her family wasn't going to like what she suggested. Beryl and Cameron technically had been the ones to suggest it, but she knew that they didn't like it any more than she did.

"Yeah," Frank said, frowning and glaring at the floor. "We have allies to the east of us and the west of us. Even the north. But the south?" Frank shook his head. "That's gonna make things difficult. We don't have enough allies yet in the north that when we need help from them, and they come from Sweden, Finland and the border, when we need help, they won't make it in time."

"Yeah." Paul said, frustration clear in his voice, arms across his chest, "We need to get all our allies from the north. But they won't get here in time if we're being attacked by the queen's forces. If we had more time, we could have allies that could back us up that are closer."

Clarke nodded. All of them were right. Which led to the inevitable. They were not going to like her solution. Well, it was Beryl and Cameron's solution. But the others still would not like it.

Not even a little.

She sighed when she heard Christopher and David growl in frustration. Parker looked like she might grab something breakable and throw it before Simone put a hand on her shoulder and Parker calmed down. Casey and Jesse stayed close. Casey shook her head and said, "So what? We're supposed to give up now? No way. We fight no matter what." Clarke smiled, proud of Casey, despite this looking like a possible lost cause. "I didn't say that." Paul said. "I'm just saying, we might need to think of other options."

What made Clarke startled was the way Cameron and Beryl looked at her. Both young girls gave her a meaningful look and Clarke had a feeling they both knew already where this was going to go.

Beryl was looking at her in a way that said, _you know what you have to do._

Cameron's eyes read as, _whatever you do, Clarke, do it. I won't judge._

Clarke tried not to shiver. They knew. She was sure now that Cameron and Beryl knew what she'd have to do now.

Clarke sighed, preparing herself. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. It made her feeling of dread get bigger and stickier like black tar dragging those ice age animals down that she had seen in the history books. Those eyes flashed in her mind. Those cold, calculating, ice blue eyes. That stone castle at the edge of the Norway's southern border, just at the sea. That smile that if one got close enough, could smell the metallic scent of blood coming from the woman's maw.

"Which brings me to one possibility." She said. "And you guys aren't going to like it." She had more than a few curious looks cast her way. Beryl and Cameron looked unsurprised.

Clarke continued, knowing she was about to suggest a deal with the devil. If Nia was bad? What Clarke was about to suggest was somehow even worse.

"The south." Clarke continued. "We _could_ have allies in the south. Just by the sea. If I went there and talked to them." Clarke let the words sink in for everyone and saw how they all reacted. She saw the horror start to appear on some of their faces as they understood what she was saying.

"What?" Parker asked, eyes becoming huge. "No. No fucking way, Clarke. Firstly, you are not going there. You might never come back if you do. Secondly, how are we going to run this by the queen?" Clarke nodded. All insane plans aside, even though they were planning on dethroning the queen, to maintain a lie, they had to pretend that they were willing to run everything by Nia first before making any action.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Paul said, shaking his head, arms unwinding from his chest. "I don't think that's a good idea." His face became frightened, "Clarke, like Parker said, you go there, you might not come back. Even if they don't kill you, you know that their leader wants you with them. She might keep you there against your will."

"She won't." Clarke said. "Not unless she wants a war between her people and the queen's. And neither army can risk that." Clarke slowly turned her head, feeling the two holes burning into the side of her head. She saw how Ontari was staring at her, the terror written all over the other young woman's face. She glanced down and saw how Ontari's hands were twitching as if just barely restraining themselves from grabbing her. Clarke sighed. She couldn't blame Ontari. She was putting Ontari and the rest of her family through some serious stress right now by suggesting what she suggested. But the thing was, if she made allies with the people in the south, the "Milgreds," that would make them the Milgreds' people too. And they wouldn't attack her people. Especially not if they were offering to dispose of the pest that was queen Nia who had kept hounding the Milgreds to bow to her. The same queen who had deliberately had some villages killed off all so that the Milgreds' wouldn't be fed.

And it would help if they had other additional allies.

Clarke added, "And we might have other means of getting help. Cameron," She tore her gaze from the shocked and mortified Ontari, to look at Cameron who was holding her head a bit high. "I think we talked about this before. Maybe you should tell them."

Cameron nodded, and walked closer to the middle of the room, the horrified and many questioning gazes following her.

Cameron said, showing the confidence she had gained in the past few months, "Clarke and I were talking once before. And we came up with a solution for the bandits and the nomads. They're only bandits and nomads because that's preferable than being under Nia's rule. So why don't we do what we did with the other villages? Ally with all of them? If we ally with the bandits and nomads and promise them goods from the kingdom, that we share in trade with the other tribes and the villages, then they'll have less reason to pillage, won't they?"

The others looked at each other, uneasy. Of course, nothing would make them as uneasy as what Clarke had just proposed to all of them. But "allying with bandits" was still an unsettling aspect, given their history with the bandits.

Bandits had wounded Christopher's leg. Bandits had almost killed Casey and Jesse once. Bandits had cornered David, Mario and Kristin and nearly ran them through with spears before Glenn, Rora and Avery had shot the bandits full of arrows. Bandits had been responsible for the long, wicked scars along Cody's chest. Bandits were responsible for so many fires.

But if they could gain the bandits' favor, there would be less skirmishes between the groups.

"Who do you think we should talk to about all of this?" Kristin grumbled, her dark skin still incredibly pale thanks to Clarke's suggestion. "How do you think the queen will take suggesting allying with the fucking _Milgreds?"_ Kristin added, grimacing, "And allying with bandits? That's going to be a no-go for her."

Clarke nodded. "Maybe. But we need a way to stop the attacks from the bandits. People are dying at their hands. Our people. And that's unacceptable. But if we have a force that can back us and capture them, then offer to spare them and share the resources if they ally with us, then we'll have something."

"Hey, I agree with you on the methods." Mario said, shuddering, "I just don't think I like the idea of you going to see the Milgreds. Clarke, if they get their hands on you again-"

"Mario," Clarke said, feeling Ontari's eyes burning into her again, "They already had me. And they could have killed me at any time. But they didn't. They let me go. Their queen let me go. She's not unreasonable, for all her other flaws."

David snorted, face pale. "Yeah, her _many_ flaws. At least with Nia, you don't have to worry about potentially being her dinner!" Clarke winced and Bobbi and Cody shushed David. Christopher looked like he was about to smack David alongside the head, but stopped himself. It was a good thing Martin, Sabine, West and Bailey were watching the halls. They did not want anyone listening in and knowing that they were going to have the Milgreds help them destroy Queen Nia.

Even in the world of the Azgeda, the Milgreds were considered particularly lowly and murderous. For they followed a practice that no Azgeda had before the Milgreds had been formed. "Mil" was the Azgeda word for "man." "Gred" was the Azgeda word for "eat." If one knew that and put those words together to form "Milgred," it was fairly clear who they were and what they did.

"Milgreds" translated to "man-eaters."

And that name _wasn't_ metaphorical. And everyone in this room knew that. Clarke, considering she had been there once and had seen the inside of their queen's castle, she knew firsthand that those stories weren't lies or legends. She had seen what had been roasting on the fire pit inside the Milgred queen's lair. And it had been no pig, cow, goat or deer.

Why the queen, Razeeta had let her go, Clarke still didn't know.

Farron's clutch on Clarke's hand was now unbearably hard and stiff. Clarke looked down at the boy attached to the hand. Farron stared up at her, pleadingly. Farron shook his head, blue eyes visibly wet with fearful tears. All courage he might have had was gone now. Replaced only by fear for his mother.

"Klark, no." He said, "Don't go there. They'll kill you this time."

Clarke sighed, heart hurting at seeing Farron this frightened. Her words had made him this frightened. "Farron," She said, "It's going to be okay. If we can get the Milgreds' assistance, then we will have an army fiercer than any and more feared than any." Being cannibals would give a certain people some clout enough to be dreaded by many, even by the rest of the Ice Nation. "And if not?" Ontari finally spoke, her voice weak, but holding something that Clarke hadn't been expecting. Anger.

"Klark," The Azgeda heir pushed, "Razeeta let you go once. What makes you think she'll do it again? Even with the threat of my mother's army potentially invading her land if she kills you, do you think that she'd let such an opportunity slip through her fingers again?" Clarke turned back to Ontari, seeing her lover's dread and fear. Clarke had to wonder if this was going to be the first time that Ontari actually intended to use force to prevent her from doing something-if Ontari intended to stop her.

Clarke nodded. "That's why I won't go alone. That's why I'm going to run this by the queen first. I'll have a whole army with me if the queen gives me the go-ahead."

Ontari stiffened and shook her head. "I don't like this, Klark. I don't like this at all. Even if you bring an army, you can't predict how many people in that army is on our side and how many of those people are on Queen Nia's side. Which means that if there aren't that many people in that army that supports us, then you'll have to be alone with Razeeta at some point to ask her to help without being spied on." Ontari grew somehow paler, and even with the fire billowing behind her, she looked far too pale. Clarke could feel the frightened eyes all on her. Ontari, Rora, Kozarr, Farron, people who had grown up with boogeyman stories, not just of the Mountain Men and the reapers, but with boogeyman stories of the Milgreds knew well what that kind of fear was. It was fear of what was considered unnatural, inhuman, even by the Azgeda standards. A complete taboo.

Clarke sighed, finding herself amused by her next thoughts. Had she really changed so much in only seven months that this was funny to her? But she did indeed find amusement in her next thoughts.

Did it matter what happened to other people being eaten? If it was only her family and her people that survived the cannibalistic conquests, could she really complain? Her people, as Clarke had established and as her family had established, the Azgeda were seen as pariahs no matter what they did. And even if it had all started with Costia, which it hadn't, the rest of the world of the Ice Nation was treated like monsters, all for one act. All for the act committed by Nia and a few of her followers.

Her family and her people were persecuted in a world of people who believed they were better than everyone else. And both her people, Azgeda and Sky people alike were in danger. So what if Clarke had a bunch of cannibals on her side? If they didn't touch her family, her people, were they a problem for her specifically? Clarke found that the thought of the Milgreds running loose and potentially "feeding" on other tribes didn't bother her so much. The Podakru? Treacherous at best. The Boudalankru? They wished they could still pillage and rape. The Ingranronakru? They slaughtered children regularly. The Sankru? Back before the Coalition, they had killed children to break the adults in the families they were at war with. All these traits? They likely still existed within these tribes. The wars before the coalition weren't that long ago. And many of those tribes still probably thought those days were better, given the Grounders' war like way of life.

And the Trikru? The Trikru were self-righteous and all. But at the end of the day, first chance they'd get, they'd put a knife in your back. Clarke shivered as she found she didn't mind standing back and doing nothing as the rest of the tribes knew the wrath of the Milgreds at all.

It was a savage and murderous thought. But Clarke didn't care anymore.

Clarke found her own thoughts funny, knowing how sickened she would have seen these thoughts months ago. But she wasn't the same person now as she had been then, was she?

"I don't want you to go there." Ontari pressed, and Clarke tried not to flinch at Ontari's fearful voice, or the terror she knew to still be in Farron's eyes as he looked at her.

"She won't go alone." Cameron spoke up, stepping forward. Clarke looked at the other girl, seeing the pale skinned girl look at her fiercely. "I'll come with you. You won't be alone in the room with Razeeta. I'm going to be there with you." "So will I." Beryl said, stepping up as well, next to Cameron, her brown eyes shining with conviction. "If Razeeta even moves in your direction, Clarke, I will take off one of her feet."

Clarke chuckled, knowing that was extreme, but she understood, nonetheless. Extreme situations called for extreme tactics. Clarke, despite her strong suggestions, didn't know how she felt about Beryl and Cameron being in the room with her when she spoke to Razeeta. She had no doubt that Beryl and Cameron would risk their lives to protect her from Razeeta, and that was the part that scared Clarke.

Though Razeeta had shown an interest in Clarke and had seemed to be happy with letting her go last time, Clarke couldn't predict how she would react to Beryl and Cameron's presences there.

"Klark," Ontari's voice was strained and heavy at the same time, and Clarke could hear that Ontari was speaking through clenched teeth. "I saw that woman _touching_ you. You were unconscious and she was touching your hair. Looking at you like she cared about you…"

Clarke sighed, looking back at Ontari who was watching her with terror. Clarke's heart hurt. Ontari no doubt had had nightmares about that day. When Ontari, Finley, Cody, Mario and Kristin and an Azgeda group and a few other twenty-six came to retrieve Clarke from the Milgreds' territory when she had ended up there after being injured in a battle two months ago, they had seen a frightening sight. The rest of the twenty-six would have rushed in to help Clarke, but the queen had made sure that a portion of them were in Azgeda territory where she could watch them. Don't want your greatest assets being able to flee, right? If the rest of the twenty-six went with Ontari's group, then there was too much of a risk of Nia losing her greatest weapons. And the queen wouldn't risk that. True, she knew that if Clarke was killed or kept as a hostage by the Milgreds, things were already going to get dire, but Nia had known that if the Milgreds knew that Clarke was Wanheda, then Clarke would be too valuable to kill right away. So Nia had taken the risk with at least half of the twenty-six and her heir.

And what had Ontari and the others found in the queen, Razeeta's throne room? Clarke, unconscious, lying down on a rug of brown bear fur, Razeeta kneeling down next to her, looking at Clarke with curiosity, crouching down, sitting, arms draped over her knees and cocking her head at the sleeping Clarke like she was trying to figure the younger woman out. And she was touching Clarke's hair, stroking it even. Clarke imagined that it had made Ontari sick to her stomach to see.

What Ontari had seen probably had taken a few good years off of the black-haired young woman's life when it came to stress and panic. Thankfully, Finley had told the others that she had seen Clarke breathing before any of them could attack Razeeta and start a war potentially-with Earth's most monstrous people, no less.

Even the Mountain Men would have been scared of the Milgreds. Too bad the Milgreds didn't adhere to anything the Commander said, otherwise they might have really scared the Mountain Men into submission during the Sky Peoples' war with them. And Clarke doubted that Razeeta would have listened to Lexa's order of "retreat." Not when there would have been so much meat to be offered within the mountain. Even if it was considered "weak meat" that nature killed because the Mountain Men's evolution had regressed.

"I know, Ontari," Clarke said gently, knowing this was really hard for the other. "I know. And I won't ask you to trust Razeeta and her people ever. But I just ask that you trust me to do this. And for some of our warriors to keep me safe while I'm doing it." Ontari shook her head, breath ragged as it came out, dark eyes gleaming with her hidden fear. "No, Klark. If you're going, I'm not leaving you there with her. I'm going with you."

Clarke said quickly, pained at how Ontari's voice sounded, "No, Ontari. I need you here, kran en segara. If anything happens to me-and it won't," Clarke amended that last part quickly when she saw Ontari tense and heard her suck in a breath, along with the hisses from her family around her at the thoughts she was suggesting, "But _if_ anything happens by chance, I need you here, protecting the twenty-six and the kids we've taken in. Even if you have to kill queen Nia, protect them."

Clarke stared at Ontari, knowing she was asking the unthinkable. She was placing a great burden on Ontari's shoulders. Not just for Ontari to kill the woman who had been her mother for years, but to push their schedule ahead by at least half a year, and therefore with less resources and less allies to go up against the queen's army with. But the reassuring thing was that they had allies here, even without the twenty-six and their band of orphans. There were allies they had stationed around every corner from those they had gathered from Nia's own army and from villages and those that had been injured and were travellers they had taken in.

Ontari would be put on the throne after she killed Nia. The only thing that would be an issue would be Nia's followers. Who would have to be killed off immediately after Ontari took control, so as not to risk an assassination attempt and putting a puppet on the throne in Ontari's stead.

It didn't matter. They'd do what they'd have to do as always. But Clarke needed to know her kids would be in good hands, if there was any chance at all that she might not come back from Razeeta's territory.

She didn't believe that Razeeta would let her go, only to change her mind two months later. But the Grounders had proven again and again to be deceitful. Razeeta wouldn't be the first Grounder to stab Clarke in the back if the older woman intended to. Which meant that they'd have to make plans ready in case that happened. She stared hard at Ontari. "Ontari, promise me."

Ontari's breathing was harsh and Clarke could see how the other woman was trying hard not to flip out over this. Her entarg was about to go into a territory where people that ate human flesh and meat lived. Clarke knew what she was saying was practically suggesting suicide. In one of the most gruesome and painful ways ever. But what were they supposed to do? Not speed up their plan as necessary and get the most brutal warriors to help them? Even if they were fully successful with the other plan, making allies with the bandits, they'd still need all the allies they could get. And who were more fiercer than the rest of the Azgeda? Only the Milgreds.

But what if this blew up on their faces? This was where the next plan had to come in. Just in case by any chance that the Milgreds were going to betray them, they had to take precautions. This meant that what they had found four months ago would be very important in the next few weeks of what they did next.

Clarke looked at Finley, then glanced at Mario, Kristin, Cody, Casey, Jesse and Blair. The five of them were responsible for the weapons they had found. She, Cody, Blair, Kristin, Mario, Finley, Jesse, Casey and West had found those weapons and that cargo stashed away in the thin neck of Norway's paths. Some people that had tried to survive during the fall of the bombs had stowed away loads of things. Many of those things just junk like CDs, pencils, family pictures, cups, chairs, plates, forks and the like. Any food in that storage place had of course gone bad long ago.

But many of the compartments in the storage facility had contained guns. Rifles. Handguns. Shotguns. Bullet magazines. Small bombs. Grenades. Tazers. What was even better, they found flammable liquid. Loads and loads of it. Flamethrowers and blowtorches too. They didn't know if that liquid was for making sure the heater that was in storage facility worked or if it had been meant for cooking in case the stove didn't work or what. But there was loads of flammable liquid in the storage facility. And that was convenient for them. Thankfully the rest of the Azgeda army, save for those they were loyal with knew about the guns and the liquid.

Clarke and the others had smuggled the guns and rifles and bombs out. The bombs were small enough to be concealed. And any questions about the blowtorches and flamethrowers were answered with lies of the devices being pieces of garbage that they needed to haul out and make room for other things with.

But little did the queen and her followers know that all of these items were hidden now. The loads of flammable liquid, which would be useful now, were hidden. This brought in Finley, Jesse, Casey and the others' involvement. They were the keepers of these weapons. She trusted them more than anyone else in Azgeda besides Ontari and the rest of her kids to look after those weapons.

"Casey, Jesse, Finley, Cody, Kristin, Mario." Clarke said, "I need to speak specifically with you guys about this. The weapons. We need them." Casey and everyone else stiffened up again. Clarke added as she felt both her hands being clasped even tighter. "In case this plan ends badly, we need those weapons."

Casey's eyes widened and she nodded. "Right." She said. "If this plan goes downhill, we want those weapons and fast." Mario snorted. "Yeah, nothing like cooked bandits and roasted cannibals."

Kristin punched the smirking boy's arm and the others groaned at Mario's morbid, sick joke. Clarke turned to Ontari who still hadn't changed the look on her face, not once. Clarke looked down at Farron who tearfully wrapped his arms around her stomach and pressed his weeping face to her.

"Farron, sweetie," She said quietly, leaning down and kissing the top of his head. "It will be okay. I promise." As soon as she said those words, she regretted them. She didn't want to make Farron any false promises. And she didn't know if it was going to be okay. A kid, no matter the age, hearing such a promise and their parent or guardian not fulfilling that promise was bad for the kid. Clarke could attest to that herself, thanks to her mother. She squeezed him tightly. She had to make sure arrangements were in order. If there was any chance at all that she wasn't coming back from the Milgreds' territory, then someone had to look after Farron for her. Ontari obviously was the first choice. But everyone else had to take care of him and the other orphans too.

"Now _listen_ to me." Clarke said in emphasis as she raised her head, looking from the still practically petrified Ontari, to the uneasy faces of her family. "I know this is asking a lot. And I know this is taking a huge risk. But we chose that when we agreed to fight against Nia in the shadows. We all know that going against Nia on its own will risk us losing at best, our heads." She looked around, "Did anyone pretend that that wouldn't immediately happen if we were ever discovered by Nia?" There was some tensing up, then gradual shaking of heads.

No, they all knew what the price would be if they went against Nia and failed or went against Nia and were discovered.

It was a fact they had to remind themselves of every day. Death loomed right above them should they make so much as one wrong move.

Clarke nodded, grim-faced that still they had to live with this. Her chest felt tight as she thought of that. "We all chose to take a huge risk by going against the queen. Is this really going to be any different? I'm going to be risking myself. Like I always do. It's just that these people that I'm going to see are more threatening than most armies. So what's different?"

She added before anyone could say anything, "And don't say that it's because the Milgreds are cannibals. Sure, it's pretty gruesome. But we've faced other gruesome things before. And you all know that. Just because the Milgreds practice a way of life that is horrifying, doesn't mean that we haven't faced worse." She added. "Look, I know this is a lot to ask. But we have to stay focused. If this plan does go awry, Casey, I need you and the others to keep the weaponry close, keep them watched. And we have to make those other allies fast. And I need people to look after Farron and the other kids while I'm gone." She looked at Ontari, who looked like she'd rather hear anything else except hear this.

"Ontari, I need you to do this. Promise me you'll watch everyone else if anything happens to me." Clarke knew she was doing something incredibly underhanded by asking Ontari to do this. But she needed someone to look after everyone else if things went as her family thought they were going to go. And Ontari, being the heir to the queen's throne and the one who had control of those that she had plotted with before Clarke and the twenty-six had even showed up, was the best choice.

Ontari's dark eyes were pained and torn, but she eventually nodded. "Alright." Ontari said, and Clarke's heart hurt at the strain in Ontari's voice. "I swear, I'll keep these people safe and the rest of our warriors safe until you get back." She nodded at the warriors surrounding them. Some of the distressed twenty-six gave short nods, but that was it. They were as strained and shaken as Ontari was. "I….." Casey sighed, moving her shoulders a little as she stretched her neck. "I should probably make sure everything's ready with the weapons." Clarke tried not to wince. She hated how Casey's voice sounded. She hated that she kept doing this to them, putting them through this emotional wringer. But this had to be done to form alliances and armies.

Casey looked at Clarke one last time as she turned, body facing the door to Clarke's room. Her large, tall frame slouching a little, the bear pelt shirt pale in comparison to her long ebony hair that went past her shoulders. "Clarke," Casey said quietly, dark brown eyes afraid. "Tell me when you're about to leave. Okay? We should all be there when you take off." Clarke nodded, wishing she could do more to alleviate Casey's fear for her safety. Casey turned to Beryl and Cameron to her right. "You guys are going with her?" Both girls in front of Casey nodded.

Cody spoke up, "If I'm not needed for the weapons, I want to come too." The dark-skinned girl turned to Clarke and said fiercely, "Don't forget, Clarke, I was with Ontari when we went in to find you. I saw that… _woman_ ," Cody shuddered the word out, "Touch you. It made my skin crawl. I don't know why she was so kind to you or chose to let you go when she could have used Wanheda against the queen and the Commander. But whatever her reasoning, it can't be good, Clarke. You know it can't be. I don't want you going there without at least an army at your back. You'll need people you can trust with that woman." Cody's dark eyes were hard and Clarke knew there would be no arguing with Cody on this point. Clarke nodded, seeing this was somewhat personal for Cody.

Seeing someone you saw as a sister completely at the mercy of what you knew was a cannibal tended to put protective instincts into gear fast and violently. "Right." Clarke said. "You're coming then, Cody." She looked around at the room. "Anyone else that isn't involved with the weapons and that isn't going to make allies with the bandits want to come along?" It might have been insane to ask if anyone else wanted to come along on a trip to see a society of cannibals. But Clarke knew the others would be upset if she didn't check. Well, some of them would be.

Lorena was about to speak up when Simone laid a hand on her shoulder, making the younger of the two sisters look at her, startled. Simone shook her head. While her little sister might have become a good warrior over time, the thought of her baby sister going into a territory of cannibals made Simone's stomach sink to her toes. And Sabine would never allow it. Simone turned to Clarke. "I'll come with you."

Lorena sucked in a breath, trying not to whimper, eyes staring at her sister fearfully. Simone's hand squeezed tighter around Lorena's shoulder comfortingly, without even needing to see her sister's face.

Parker nodded, a fierce look in her eyes. "I will too."

Blair made a small whimpering noise next to Hodge and Paul. Her fists clenched up and her jaw tensed. "Don't." She said weakly. "Clarke, don't go there. None of you should go there." She looked at Cody and Simone and Parker. "None of you should go there. It's not safe." Clarke sighed. Blair, while having grown stronger and having multiple marks burned into her skin-proof of her many kills and of her skill in battle. But behind all of it, still lay a vulnerable little girl who was terrified of losing her second family. Really, the only family she knew since her parents had both died when Blair had been very little.

Clarke and the rest of the twenty-six and the orphans in Azgeda were the only real family she had. It was far from a stable environment, but Blair had somehow found stability. So any of her family going into real danger? Like the Milgreds? That was unacceptable. Her family had faced dangers before. However, the bandits, the other villages, bears, wolves, not even the dangerous and treacherous environment that was the place where Blair and her family lived and slept in Azgeda where so much as one word against the queen could lead to a slow, painful death, none of those dangers came close to the types of dangers that the Milgreds would unleash.

At least beasts were relatively quick. At least bandits usually just tried to set you on fire or stabbed you. At least other villages just tried to do the same. The queen would have you tortured to death. But the Milgreds offered different horrors. You weren't even a soldier to them. You were just food. Cattle.

Razeeta was as treacherous and deceitful as Nia.

Blair most likely thought the worst of what would happen if any of her loved ones went anywhere near the Milgreds' territory. "Blair," Clarke said gently, hand stroking over the back of Farron's head, thinking about these two being frightened for them while they were gone. "We'll be alright. Razeeta knows she can't hurt me unless she wants to start a war between her people and Nia's. And Nia doesn't trust Razeeta. So she'll give me as many warriors as she feels I'll need. And she probably feels I'll need a lot, considering who's territory we're going into."

Clarke nodded, if only to reassure herself as well as everyone else. "I'll be fine, Blair. So will Beryl, Cameron, Simone, Parker and Cody."

She could see how the others were tensing and were wanting to protest, but she knew now she had to be more leader than friend and sister. She needed to make it clear that they were not to make the decisions right now. She spoke in a firm voice, wishing she didn't have to be this commanding with them. She never did. "This isn't up for debate. You need to stay safe. Finley, Mario, Kristin, Sabine, West, Casey, Jesse and Bailey need to stay with the weapons. I'll have Martin shadow Mathias as usual. Frank." The dark-skinned young man turned to her curiously, his concerned brown eyes still jumping to Kozarr every now and then. "You, Glenn, Bobbi and Paul need to speak with the queen about making more allies. We need to see if the Sowlas will ally with us."

Frank hesitated and nodded. Clarke looked over at the others she had mentioned. "Everyone alright with this? Sorry, but we have to prioritize. And even though the Sowlas have little power, what they _do_ have are numbers." Rora said, stepping up next to Glenn, "I'm coming with them." She turned to Glenn who nodded.

Clarke nodded. Rora and Glenn had fought next to each other under worse circumstances. The Sowlas were very different from the Milgreds. There would be no immediate danger by entering their territory, lest they do something deliberately to hurt the Sowla people. And Clarke was sending some of the most levelheaded people in this group out.

Clarke looked down then at Farron who was looking up at her pleadingly still with almost watery eyes. Clarke hugged him closely. She started speaking calmly, "Blair, Lorena, I know neither of you are gonna like this. But you two, Farron, Linden, Lane and the other kids need to be kept safe. So I want all of you to follow every direction of Ontari while I'm gone. And Hodge, Avery, Edmund, Dallas, David, Christopher, I want you six to watch the kids whenever Ontari can't. Alright?"

Clarke could see the protests begin to be belted out. She scowled, deciding now that she had to get serious here. She interrupted before more protests could be made, "I don't want to hear any of this." Her voice was harsher than she'd like. She knew all of them wanted to come with her and help protect the family. But if all of them died, then there was no point. And if they couldn't keep their priorities in line, make sure that they had everything in order and had their allies, then there was too strong a chance that all of them and the Sky people in the Trikru territory would all die. Changing tactics over personal feelings was not acceptable at the moment.

"We all need to stay safe," Clarke said, voice impassioned. "If I can keep most of you safe, then I'll take that. I wish I could refuse what Cody, Parker, Beryl, Simone and Cameron are saying. But they're right. I need people I can trust there. That's why I'm alright with them coming. But the rest of you? I need the rest of you to keep each other safe. Sorry, but as you all know by now, we don't have the luxury of staying together all the time when we want."

Clarke looked at those that were not in her group-banning Cody, Parker, Simone, Cameron and Beryl. Her voice was firm when she spoke again, "Look, I'm sorry. I know you want us all to stick together. But I need different people for different parts of this plan. If we screw up at all, we're not the only ones in danger. Everyone else is. Our friends and family here in the Azgeda. And so are all the people in the Trikru territory. And so are any of the Ark people that come down later if we don't get them a home to come to, safe from the Commander."

The finality in her tone seemed to be enough to quiet any refusals that dared to come. She watched as many tense shoulders lowered and clenched fists opened up. She breathed out in relief, patting Farron's back. It looked like for now that they were at ease. Finally David spoke up, voice harsh, "Fine. But if I've gotta stay here and babysit, I need someone to punch at to get my mind on something else. I don't want to fucking think about you guys being in the Milgreds' territory. So I need someone to beat up." Despite the hostile words, Clarke read them for what they were, and she was sure most of the others did too.

David's words in translation were, _I need someone to beat me up in case I do anything stupid._

David was just the hot-temped, good-hearted person that would do something stupid if he was given the chance. Him having a distraction would be a good thing.

Christopher patted David's back, grinning. "Don't worry. I'll knock you flat on your ass, buddy. Sorry, but you're going need stitches by the time I'm done punching your face in." David snickered, cracking his left set of knuckles one by one. "You wish, Christopher. Don't get too ahead of yourself, since you're gonna to lose painfully." Christopher grinned and Clarke rolled her eyes at the chuckles from the others in response to Christopher and David's idiocy. To be fair, getting beaten up probably felt a lot better than just waiting for the news to come back of whether or not people you cared about were still alive.

"And Emerson?" Finley asked. Clarke shrugged. "We'll get to him later. Right now we need to focus on allies. I'm executing him tomorrow morning, remember? But we need to present this to the queen today." Finley nodded, leaving it at that.

Clarke kneeled down, looking at the pained Farron and picked the boy up into her arms, letting him bury his face in her neck, trying not to cry herself when she felt his hot tears against her skin. She turned and looked at Ontari. Ontari looked like she was going to be out of commission for a while. Her body was tense again and she was avoiding looking right at Clarke. "Ontari?" Clarke asked gently. The black-haired young woman said in pained voice, "I just need a few moments, Klark. Please." Clarke nodded, chest hurting at the sight. She was sure that when she, Cody, Parker, Cameron, Simone and Beryl got back that they'd be alright. But right now, Ontari would have to deal with the very terrifying thought of her lover and eventual wife being alone with one of the most terrifying people in Azgeda apart from Ontari's mother. That wasn't something she would be able to take easily, and Clarke couldn't hold it over the other.

Clarke reached out and her free hand took Ontari's hand in hers and squeezed the black-haired young woman's hand. She gave her lover a meaningful look. _It'll be okay, baby. It'll be okay._

Ontari just nodded, but didn't look convinced at all. Clarke admittedly wasn't sure she believed what she had tried to convey to Ontari either. She knew when she got back-not if, when, she would need to make it up to Ontari. And she would. But those pleasurable nights and loving embraces would have to wait. They had to focus on speaking to Nia soon. Ask for ships so a message could be sent to the Trikru territory, giving that message to the Sky people. Ask for permission to make allies with bandits and the Sowlas. And ask for permission to make allies with the Milgreds.

It was bad, but they had a list of things to do. It was a complicated list, but they had sort of an idea of what to do now.

Item number 1: Kill Emerson, then Thelonius Jaha.

Item number 2: Secure the weaponry

Item number 3: Ally with the Milgreds (and not get killed and eaten in the process)

Item number 4: Ally with the bandits (and not get killed in the process)

Item number 5: Ally with the other villages, including the Sowlas

Item number 6: Get married to Ontari

Item number 7: Get the rest of the Sky people out of the Trikru territory and into Azgeda land.

Item number 8: Kill queen Nia and make sure that none of her followers try to kill them and that the followers didn't put anyone else on the throne instead of Ontari.

Item number 9: Worry about Lexa and Anya later.

Clarke tried not to chuckle with grim mirth. Sure, none of this was going to backfire at all. How could any of these complicated plans end up backfiring, really?

 **Author's note: I'm sorry if this chapter was a little messy. I wasn't sure. But if it's messy, then my apologies. And apologies for the delay.**

 **Okay, so yeah, we're heading in** _ **that**_ **direction. When I first started writing about the Milgreds, I wasn't sure I should do it. But apparently, here we are. So yes, there are cannibals now. Then again, I was already heading into a heavy amount of gore with Emerson's eventual execution, so I guess we're going the way of Stephen King anyway.**

 **Grabs steering wheel. Buckle up, folks. We're headed straight for Stephen King land. Cannibalism, murder, skinning. Here we come.**

 **The leader of the cannibals, "Razeeta," their queen, in case you're wondering (I'll give a bit of an explanation for how they know each other later) caught Clarke once in one of the Azgeda's raids. And as mentioned, didn't hurt her or anything. And no, as you may have come to the conclusion of, Razeeta isn't interested in Clarke in the sense of either wanting to kill Clarke or romantically. You'll see.**


	20. The Beginning: The Landing

**Note: So there's a small plotline that I want to get into with the new allies. The "Sowlas." I've been thinking about it for a while, given what I think the show was trying to convey, whether the racist writers want to admit it or not. You'll see.**

 **EyesOfTheSoul:** **Thank you, and as you wish: Magically appearing 20th chapter**

 **Trigger warnings for threats of violence and hinting at violence and hints of eventual war, captives and cannibalism.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 20: The Beginning: Part 1:**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Anya had nodded to Lexa in recognition that the Commander needed to focus on training the warriors for tonight. Anya went down below as the stone-faced Heda turned to the line of warriors. Anya knew that look in her once Second's eyes anywhere. The Commander's heart was cracking, bleeding. It hurt her to hear the things said to her, but that wasn't what made Leksa mourn. It was knowing that to an extent Wels kom Skaikru was right.

That maybe, just maybe, Klark would not forgive them.

Onya found her own heart as heavy as a stone with the concept of such a possibility. She had told Leksa that should Klark wish to sever all ties with them permanently, then she would respect Klark's wishes. But Onya didn't know how dedicated to that promise she could be, thinking about the real possibility coming true.

She barely managed to drag herself down to the lower depths of the ship as Leksa dismissed her to train the other soldiers. She went down to the ship's depths, finding Sharlot and Wels sitting together, Wels setting up a chessboard that he had pulled out of his backpack, setting up the pieces. Onya found an odd thrill of what she suspected was nostalgia at seeing those chess pieces and the checkered board. Klark and Wels had taught Onya some of the game back in Polis after they had escaped the mountain together.

They of course hadn't used the chessboard that Wels was using now. That board had been back in what was now known as Arkadia and was as "Camp Jaha" at the time. As had all the pieces. So instead, Wels and Klark had used a small sheet of metal that Leksa had allowed them and had drawn squares all over it. Half of those squares had been colored in black and the other half of the squares had been left alone. Then for the pieces, Klark and Wels had used small pieces of different looking scrap metal and wood, taking white and black pieces of chalk and marking them as part of the white set of chess pieces and the black set of chess pieces. Klark and Wels had made their own makeshift chessboard and chess pieces.

It was one of the reasons why Onya had initially been made curious by the game. Klark and Wels clearly considered it worth the trouble to make a whole new board and pieces for it, even if those pieces and the board were sloppy after the designs were done. Klark and Wels had even carved a few things into the wood and molded the metal to make them look more like their respective chess piece. A castle like top for the "rooks," a somewhat type of long horse muzzle for the "knights" and the like.

Onya knew little of the game, but it was an admirable enough game to use. It was about strategy. Which meant it wasn't a surprise at all to either Onya or Leksa that Klark tended to beat Wels and anyone else Onya had seen Klark play against in chess. Wells lifted his head and caught Onya's eyes. "Hey, Anya." Wells said quietly. He gestured for her to come over, grabbing a wooden chair from the side and put it next to the table with the chessboard on it. Onya recognized the invitation, hesitant as it might have been on Wells's part and walked over. Onya was genuinely curious as to why Wels was so inviting to her, considering what she had been witness to above deck.

Wels looked over at Sharlot and nodded to the chair next to the table, "Char, why don't you sit over here? You can watch Anya and I play chess together and then you can try it if you want." Onya was startled by the suggestion, when Wels looked at her hopefully. She was startled. She knew how to sort of play chess, thanks to Klark and Wels. But even with that in mind, she found it very strange for Wels to want to play with her, after he had made all his feelings known before. Onya knew it was wise to refuse. Why risk furthering this strained friendship with Wels, when she knew that eventually their peoples' tensions would rise again once Klark was safe? There would be a threat of war once again. So why risk it?

But Onya found herself going to the other side of the table and Sharlot got up from her seat. Onya would never utter this to anyone besides Wels himself and Klark, but Onya valued Wels's friendship.

What she'd never say was that she saw Klark in Wels. It was hard for her not to, at least. Klark and Wels had been very similar before Klark disappeared. They had the same motivations, the same tactics. Onya would not say that being near Wels reminded her of the beautiful, young blonde who looked at her as if Onya was the most beautiful woman on the ground, who looked at Onya like Onya was the one who had fell from the stars. No, Onya would never utter that admittance to anyone.

But it wasn't just because he had been Klark's dearest friend and brother. But because much to Onya's own surprise, she actually liked the young man. He was a strong warrior. He was loyal and brave. He was foolish, yes, but it took great courage to speak against Heda herself as he had above deck. Onya, while aware she perhaps should have defended her Heda, found her respect only growing for Wels because of his words against Leksa. It took courage to speak so crudely against one with such power, knowing that he could be beaten, tortured or killed at any moment for speaking out in such a way.

Charlotte went to the other chair and sat down at the side. Onya sat down at the table, across from Wels.

Wels set up all the pieces. Onya watched, sighing. "You know, you did something very foolish when you spoke to the Commander that way, don't you? Wells paused, as he paced the first row of black pieces across the board. The "pawns" as Wels and Klark had told Onya the pieces were. Chess pieces in the game were pawns, rooks, bishops, knights and a king and a queen. It was simple enough to recall. A chess game seemed to reflect what kingdoms were like. Somewhat, at least. According to Klark and Wels, chess had been created back long before the bombs hit. When a different kind of era of kings, queens and warriors lived. And chess sets reflected those types of kingdoms. Kings, queens and knights were to be expected in a game that resembled actual kingdoms. Perhaps pawns as well. It was callous, but there would always be pawns in a hierarchy. And there would always be a hierarchy, so long as a culture prospered.

The rooks and the bishops? Those were different. Onya had never heard of such titles in all her years as a warrior and a general.

But Wels and Klark had insisted that those two names were used in chess. So Onya did not debate such a thing. She had found herself interested in the game when she had seen how complex it was and had seen the joy and sense of pride that Klark had been filled with when she beat someone at the game. Onya had made a deal. She would teach Wels and Klark how to swim, in exchange, they would teach her how to play the game.

Wels and Klark had both found the proposition strange, as they had seemed both willing to teach Onya how to play, even without gaining the swimming lessons. And eventually, Onya had a few rough strategies on how to play. She was prideful in that she had accomplished as much experience in the game as she had. It was not much, as Wels and Klark knew far more of chess than Onya's people, but the few other Trikru who had learned the game from Wels and Klark in Polis, Onya had beaten. They had used the makeshift board and pieces that Klark and Wels had made. Both young warriors had said that the people of Polis could keep the board and the pieces if they wanted, and they had. She had no doubt that she had gotten much wrong in the game. But she remembered some of the moves Klark and Wels had done with their chess pieces. She knew she had done a great deal correctly in the games.

Wels nodded. "I know it was dumb." He admitted. Onya tried not to chuckle. At least Wels had his senses. Or some of them, anyway. "But," Wels added, lifting his head, facing Onya, a complete serious look in his dark eyes. "I know it was more than worth it."

At Onya's startled expression, Wels sighed, looking back down at the chessboard, putting more pieces along the board in the second chess line, starting with the small castle that was the titular "rook." Wels spoke softly, "I have no doubt that my people will suffer at the hands of your people one way or another. But if we do end up at war again? Then you know what, Anya?" Wells lifted his head again, conviction shining in his eyes that stunned Anya a few moments. "At least if we die, we'll die on our feet and not on our knees. I know it's stupid. I know it's insane. I know it's a foolish thing to do. But if we die, I want us to be remembered as those that would not bow. I want the tribes to know that we were people who did not bow in fear of a traitor. I want all the tribes to know that a traitor is no one to be fearful of. Just forgotten."

Onya stared, stunned. Her mouth dropped a little. Such a proud proclamation. She had been certain that Wels had not known what he had been doing when he had said what he had uttered to her Heda above deck. But it looked like she had been wrong. Wels had known exactly what he had been saying when he spoke those words to Leksa. And he had meant them. His words were a warning. They were a scream for battle. They were a marker, just daring for anyone to cross that marker under the threat of an oncoming war. If Wels kom Skaikru was going to die, he was going to make sure that anyone who threatened him and his people knew him as an unbendable piece of steel. Even if it ended with his slow and painful death.

He was going to make sure that his people held their heads up high and proud before their eventual demises.

Onya found a strange spur of admiration spark in her. Eventual enemy or not, Wels deserved far more respect than he got. He was a warrior. In every sense of the word. And what was more, he was worthy of his position. If it were up to Onya, Wels would ascend far higher than just being a council member.

"Wels," Onya acknowledged, "You are a fierce, strong warrior. And have always been a loyal friend and brother to Klark. Should we ever meet in battle after this, I want you to know that I'm proud to be your friend, if you consider me one." Wells's stoic expression broke for once. A smile crossed his face, some of his teeth showing between his lips. He nodded. "I _do_ see you as a friend. I'm hoping it won't come to war. But if we do end up fighting each other, thank you. I see you the same way, Anya." Anya smiled. Sharlot said quietly next to them, "Um, so, are we playing." Onya turned to the small girl who was looking between them nervously. Onya knew that Sharlot didn't like talking about war. The girl, as Onya knew from past witnessing, was a fierce girl, but didn't like hearing about people she loved being in danger.

Who did?

Onya nodded. "I suppose we should." She grabbed some of the white chess pieces that were scattered around the board and set them up on the squares that ran across the first two lines of the side of the board closest to her. All of the pawns went in front. The king, queen, bishops, knights and rooks went behind. While finishing setting up the first line of pieces, Onya looked at Wels, speaking softly, "I know what you just said. But it doesn't have to be like that. I don't want Klark to lose her brother and people." Wels nodded. "Know. And I don't want my people to die either. But the Commander made her point clear. We either bow to her or her army will kill us all not for being her slaves." Onya shook her head. "You wouldn't be slaves. You would be _citizens._ You would be official tribe people of this world." Wels nodded, smirking. "And for one small price, right? Bow to the woman who left us, even though my sister was the one that wiped out the biggest threat to all of us." Wels added, snorting, "What I want to know is why does Lexa want us to bow so much? I think you know why, Anya." Wels stared at Onya with such intensity that Onya found the answer come sadly.

"I do." She nodded. "The Commander wishes for you and Klark to bow because she knows that in the eyes of the council, Klark is stronger because she killed the Mountain Men. Heda is trying to maintain her power." Wels nodded, smiling in satisfaction. "Exactly. She'll give us shelter, food, resources and a place amongst the tribes. Just as long as we stroke her ego. Is that an honorable leader? Is that the leader you choose to follow, Anya? Why should we bow to someone who is going to treat us as second to her when she would be nothing without followers? When her people wouldn't even be alive if Clarke hadn't pulled that lever and kept the Mountain Men from getting above ground and hunting your people down?" Wels added, smiling ruefully. "You know, if it _does_ come to war, you don't have to be amongst the Trikru attacking. You could always join _us_."

Onya was startled by the offer, staring at the young man. Was he suggesting that she become a Skaikru? Like Linkin had? "You know that I can't make that choice, Wels." Onya answered. "I have my duty to my Heda." Wels nodded, not even put off by Onya's astounded tone. "You do. Unquestioningly. Like a servant who doesn't believe that there's any way out." Wels looked so sad as he stared at Onya, that Onya felt his offer weigh on her nearly. Was he serious? He actually wanted her to join his people? His last words made her uneasy. Was she as weak as Wels was implying? She had been born to serve the Commander, regardless of who the Commander was. She had been raised to fight for who sat on the Commander's throne. She had been raised to lead.

Onya thought about everything. Was Wels onto something? Had she never had a choice? She thought about how what Klark and Wels had gone through and added, "Do you think that either you or Klark had a choice?"

Wels shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe not. But neither did you."

Wels sighed, looking back down at the chessboard, dark, thick hair hanging past his face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying you should change your life. What you do with your life is your choice. But I'd just like you to know, you have options. They might be limited and the wrong choice might end your life. But you have them. And one of those choices might mean you leave this world with your dignity intact. Do you really want to stay at the sides of people who so readily left, knowing that your lifelong enemy, the Mountain Men had bone marrow that would give them access to above ground? Are those the people you want to live with? Are those the people you want _Tris_ to live with?"

Onya felt like she had been hit.

What was Wels saying? Wels grimly smiled and apologized again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have brought Tris up." He nodded to the chessboard. "We should probably start unless we want to start feeling too uneasy to play."

Onya sighed, nodding. She ignored the now disturbed thoughts growing in her head as a result of Wels's words. Wels then said to Sharlot, "Charlotte? Could you go get us some water please?" Sharlot looked surprised and Onya looked at the girl, then at Wels, confused. Why was Wels asking for water? She was not thirsty. The small girl got up and went away from the table, getting away from them. Onya cast a suspicious glance at Wels. "I'm not thirsty."

Wels nodded. "Neither am I. I didn't send her away for that. That was a front." Onya frowned. Now, she understood. How disturbing was their conversation about to get that Wels felt he had to send Sharlot away? "Just one question before we begin." Wels said, staring at Onya hard. "When we reach the Ice Nation, what will you do when we see Clarke again? If Clarke wants to stay with us and not start her relationship with you and the Commander again," Wels challenged. "What will you and the Commander do, Anya?" Onya stiffened at the question. Wels pushed on. "Will you and the Commander force Clarke to be with you? Will you drag her from Arkadia the whole way back to Polis?"

Onya glared, face hardening for a moment. For only a second, Onya's care for the young man waned at such a suggestion. She'd never force Klark. Onya said dangerously, voice a near growl. "I would never force Klark into anything." Wels cocked his eyebrows. "You mean like back during the war between our people? You tried to keep Clarke as your healer before. You used me and Finn as hostages to do it. I remember. What if we're at war again? Will you take her captive again?" Onya froze, seeing what Wels meant. Onya thought about it and she tensed, realizing she couldn't argue with the logic. She would never force Klark to be with her like that. But as much as she knew how much it would hurt Klark, if they went to war against each other and Onya had the chance, if it was the only way to save Klark's life, then yes, she would take Klark hostage again.

She answered, huffing out, making sure to never break her cool stare with Wels's own. "That was during war. No different than your people using the ring of fire to stop my warriors. And I would never force Klark into a relationship with me. But if we end up being at war once again, then I'm sorry, Wels kom Skaikru. But if it comes to that, then I will protect Klark. Even if that means that I have to take her a prisoner again." Wels nodded, a slight smile touching his face. "Good. Just making sure." Onya was startled by this proclamation. She eyed Wels. "What happened to 'dying with dignity?' Don't you want Klark to have that as well?" Wels sighed, shaking his head. "Klark shouldn't have to die because of my idiocy. _If_ we end up being at war, just promise me something. You'll do everything you can to protect Clarke. Even if she hates you for it for the rest of her life." He added, nodding to where Sharlot once sat. "Promise the same with Charlotte and with Raven."

Onya was shocked by this statement. Wels just kept on surprising her. He would go down fighting. But would not risk Klark, Sharlot or Reivon's lives. Onya supposed she could see the underhandedness of this. But somehow, she appreciated it all the more. He was protecting Klark, Reivon and Sharlot. That was something she could admire and for Klark, she could feel grateful for Wels's determination. No matter how dishonorable Wels's methods might be. He might get himself and his people killed. But he was going to make sure that the people closest to him were safe. Onya nodded. "I promise." She meant the words. Every ounce of them. She meant it to keep Klark safe. And for both Klark and Wels's sake to keep Sharlot and Reivon safe if she could as well if it came to war.

Onya didn't need further evidence when it came to Reivon and Wels. Wels, though he had said nothing of his feelings, looked at Reivon with love and protectiveness. She was his hodness in all but asking her to be with him.

Wels's smile widened. "Good. Thank you."

Onya nodded. A slight quirk touched the ends of her lips. She had a feeling that she and Wels had come to an understanding, of sorts.

Onya focused her attention on the game then. White went first. Onya managed to gather her thoughts, despite the many troubled ones that Wels had caused. Despite the pain thinking of Klark caused, Onya recalled the strategy she had first seen Klark used in chess against Wels.

She would have to use a few moves before she got to that. She knew the main thing in the game. Protect the king and queen and make sure the queen and king on the opposite side of the board were taken.

Onya added to Wels, "I know you don't like him. But I never thanked your fellow Skaikru, Belomi for saving Klark at the bridge." Wels lifted his head, startled. His eyes were narrowed in question. Onya sighed, "At the bridge? When Klark and I first met? If he had not shot me while I was taking my knife out, I would have killed Klark. My hodness."

Wels looked startled at the statement and begrudgingly nodded. "You're right." Wells said quietly. "If he hadn't shot you, you would have probably stabbed Clarke or slit her throat. And I _am_ grateful to him for stopping that. But that's where my gratitude ends." Wells supposed that he had been so disgusted and angry at Bellamy for letting Clarke just walk away from camp or hated him for everything else that he had just forgotten that the same man had saved Clarke's life at the bridge when this Grounder woman and Wells's beloved sister, Clarke had first met. But he had.

But as Wells had said, that was where his gratitude ended.

He was sure that the only reason why Bellamy had saved Clarke's life that day had been because even he knew that she was needed. That Clarke was a better leader than Bellamy was. And if he left her to die, then he might as well be dead too because he sucked as a leader.

If anything, Wells's hate and disgust of Bellamy was cemented even further. Bellamy wasn't stupid. At least not in the way of not knowing how to use a leader. He had seen that Clarke was needed, so he saved her. Only to use her help. That was all.

Wells nodded. "I'll tell him on your behalf." He added, "But trust me, Bellamy doesn't deserve your gratitude."

Onya observed Wels's anger, wondering what had happened between Belomi and Wels to make Wels this angry at the older man. Klark and Wels had told her a little about the man, but not much that could answer the question of what made Wels angry at the older. Onya decided to dismiss it. Speaking ill of those that Wels did not trust and was angry at would not relieve their unease and tension.

So Onya just went back to setting the pieces up.

When all of the pieces were properly set up, Onya faced Wels. "White goes first, right?" She nodded at the white pieces in front of her. "Yep." Wels nodded. Onya looked over at the black pieces in front of Wels. "And you're black." Wels gestured to his face, smirking slyly. "Aren't I always?" Onya snorted, shaking her head. "Very funny." She said in a wry tone. Wels grinned, shrugging. " _I_ thought it was."

Race, meaning skin color had never been an issue down here. Birthplace, perhaps. Especially if one was originally from Azgeda. But skin color? That had never mattered here after the first Heda had taken control. That was, unless you were of Azgeda. One of the groups of darker skinned Azgeda, the Sowlas, had been cast out from their own home by Nia's family. The Sowlas were direct descendants of the people who had first owned the symbol of the Azgeda. But that was the only instance as far back as Onya could recall. But as Onya learned, the Ark still held old world beliefs. There were still many amongst the Ark that treated Wels slightly different because of his skin. Wels said that it was partially because of who his father had been. But he also had heard some of the other remarks that went towards racial levels of hatred.

It was one of those pieces of information that made Onya's teeth grind. Not just Klark's friend and brother, but an honorable and brave warrior. Who was worth thousand times more than anyone who used that language against him. And the ungrateful Skaikru used such words towards him?

She knew Wels would not allow it, but she was almost tempted to offer killing anyone who said those words. Besides, Heda would never allow such risk to a possible peace, even if the current Commander admired Wels for his loyalty to Klark.

There were noisy footsteps against the wooden floor and Onya and Wels both turned to see Sharlot coming over with two small, wooden cups in her hands. She brought the cups over and place the cups on the sides of the table, one next to each corner, near Wells and near Anya.

"Thanks, Charlotte." Wells smiled at her. "You should probably get some water for yourself too." Charlotte shrugged as she sat down in the chair again.

"Thank you, Sharlot kom Skaikru." Onya said to the girl. Charlotte nodded, her gaze on Anya, as usual a cross between curiosity, mild distrust and awe.

When everything was set up, Onya took the pawn in front of the queen and moved it forward two squares. Wels watched the move. He nodded. He grabbed his black pawn in front of the queen and did the same. Onya took the chance to move her bishop diagonally to the right, putting it in front of the queen. Any attacking piece would risk being gotten rid of by the bishop if it attacked from the sides. The only problem was the front, as the bishop did not move forward. It could only move diagonally. And she would take care of that when she moved her pawns out of the way of her knights.

She glanced at Wels, who had lifted an eyebrow, but was silent. The boat rocked a little, but not enough for the chess pieces to go sliding off the board or for the board to go sliding off the small table. Wels reached out and moved his pawn away from in front of the bishop next to his queen. Onya moved the pawn two spaces away from the knight closest to her queen. She heard a chuckle from Wels. "It looks like you've learned. But you're not as good as me." Wels gave a playful smirk to let Onya know he meant no mockery by his words. He removed the pawn in front of his other bishop the next two squares over. Onya grinned back. They would just see about that.

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

It was almost surreal going from Clarke's room to the throne room down below where queen Nia was watching warriors carelessly. Clarke observed the many servants, warriors and Seconds move about, training. When the group reached the bottom of the stairs, Ontari was the first one to make their presence known to the queen.

She walked to the front of the throne room, kneeling down before the steps to the queen's throne, catching her mother's attention. Nia turned her head to her adopted child. Nia clapped her hands for everyone to be silent. Instantly, everyone fell silent, afraid of any harm coming to their person if they disobeyed. "Your majesty," Ontari said, "My entarge and I would wish to speak with you, mother." Nia watched Ontari carefully. Ontari lifted her head and the grave look in the younger's eyes must have caught the queen off guard. The older woman nodded. She looked around at the masses that surrounded.

"Leave us!" She demanded. Many of the servants shuddered and nodded, everyone in the room, save for Ontari, Clarke, Farron and the twenty-six fleeing the room. After what must have been only five minutes later, when the entertainers, the council members, the soldiers, the servants, the trainees, the trainers and others left the halls in abundance. They would not risk disobedience and not risk disembowelment or dismemberment.

When the building was barren of all people that weren't the queen, Ontari, the twenty-six, Farron and Clarke, the only other people remaining Saktar, Hasenjo and Bardek at the queen's sides, the queen gestured for Clarke and the others to come forward.

Clarke and Farron walked together over next to Ontari, kneeling down on the floor alongside Ontari.

The twenty-six followed. They kneeled down.

Cody hid her scowl as she did this, head lowered. She went to the floor in the kneeling position next to Mario and Kristin. They all knew what they had to do. They had to get special permission from their queen to go and make allies. Especially with the Sowlas and the Milgreds. She knew they all hated this, going to their knees like servants. Asking only for permission to do anything. All in front of a woman who had made their lives hell since the moment they had been brought into the Azgeda kingdom from the twenty-six's dropship. They even had to be careful about gaining allies. But for appearances sake, they needed "clearance" to go make allies with the Milgreds and with the Sowlas and the bandits.

To be honest, Cody hated the very idea of going near the Milgreds' territory, much less anyone she loved going near there. But often, surviving meant doing what you really, really didn't want to do. That sometimes included pretending you were loyal to one of the worst Grounders in the world. And sometimes that included going into the territory of a bunch of murderous cannibals who just barely maintained peace with the current Ice Queen, and who had a troubling interest in Clarke.

Sometimes, you had to do things that you really, _really_ didn't want to do. Cody and the others had all learned that only two weeks after first dropping down on Earth in that stupid, fucking ship six months ago.

 **Six months and two weeks ago:**

 **Azgeda territory: The skies of Norway**

 _The descent down was agonizingly fast. Kristin was sure she was going to get whiplash. Next to her she noticed the closest girl whose name she had heard spat out by the guards, "Bobbi," grabbing at her seatbelt, teeth clenching as they were rocketing down. Kristin looked ahead and saw that the first four people in the front row were snarling at the TV where Chancellor Pike's face was taunting them with how they were "serving their people" by being sent down here to see if any of the Grounders would be violent in this neck of Earth._

 _One of the girls up ahead snarled, "Fuck you, Pike! Take it up the ass!"_

 _Kristin smirked. She'd probably yell the same in a few minutes. Once they crashed. Yeah, crashed. They didn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon. Kristin briefly wondered if they survived when they came crashing down. If any of them did. Kristin swallowed harshly, hands gripping the arms of her seat, mentally praying to the few gods of her father that she still believed in that they'd be safe. Of the few descended groups of Native American tribes, Kristin's Sioux father's origins and her biracial mother's father being of Nakota, Sioux, knew that groups that came before other groups wouldn't take so well to being invaded._

 _Kristin didn't entirely blame the Grounders for their actions. The actions that she and the others on the Ark had heard about. All the wars. Kristin hated to say it, but she kind of saw where the Grounders were coming from._

 _Her parents had always been treated like second-class citizens because of their origins. And Kristin had been tossed in the Skybox just because she had punched a guard while intoxicated. She hadn't even hurt him that badly and her life was forfeited already. Kristin could still remember the pained looks on her parents' faces when they saw her being thrown into the dropship. Both her father, Tatonga and her mother, Anna had promised to find her when they got free of Pike and got a pod._

 _Kristin partially dreaded that possibility. How long would her parents survive if they came down to Earth? Kristin had heard about a lot that had happened after the first group of people were sent down. The 100._

 _Weren't most of them dead? They didn't know the details or even any of the 100's names except for Clarke, Bellamy, Wells and Octavia. And the name of that mechanic, Raven. But they knew no other detail except for that. They knew literally nothing of what had happened to the 100. And usually, that was a bad sign. It usually meant the first "test subjects" from the Ark were dead. Mostly anyway. There was some weirdness with a mountain. Nothing that anyone knew about for sure anyway. Why had the first group on the ground been talking about a mountain? No one one the Ark knew._

 _The impact came all too soon. Kristin felt like her entire body had been hit by a freight train. Kristin's teeth gnashed together from the impact. Her head swung back and forth, head thrust forward. Kristin whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut, teeth gritting. She heard cries all around her and she started lifting her head, looking around, listening in. The lights were still on, but she felt like all the wind had been taken out of her from the impact. Kristin looked at the other kids sitting around her._

 _Bailey, another Sioux kid that Kristin recognized, a kid who had no less tried to kill Pike, unbuckled her seatbelts and jumped out of her seat, looking around the dropship. She looked at Kristin. "Blue, you okay?!" Kristin nodded, unbuckling her seatbelts and getting out of her seat. "Yeah. You, Bailey?" Bailey nodded. She turned her head, deep black hair that went right past her shoulders fluttering about at her back at her movements. Around them, other kids detached themselves from their seats._

 _Kristin heard talking, hearing some of their names from the people that knew each other._

 _A white girl with short, black hair said to another white girl, with long black hair, "Finley, you okay?" This "Finley" nodded. Finley got up from her seat, followed by her friend. "Yeah, I'm good." Finley answered. "West, give me a hand here. There's a little kid here."_

" _I'm not that little!" A girl's voice protested. The smallest girl between "West" and Finley was helped up. She was pale, with pure black hair past her shoulders. "What'd you say your name was again?" Finley asked. "Blair?" The smaller girl nodded nervously._

 _Kristin felt movement next to her and checked to the left, seeing some other girls getting out of their seats. Two of them looked identical practically, except one had lighter hair than the other and one of them had dark brown eyes. The other had blue eyes. Next to the one with blue eyes was a black haired girl with blue eyes who looked like both older girls, except younger._

 _The dark brown eyed girl on the farthest right went around to go to the young girl. "Lorena, let me look at you." The young girl rolled her eyes. "Sabine, I'm fine." Kristin narrowed her eyes, rolling the names around in her head. Lorena. Sabine. Were these the famous Thomas kids? The twins had been allowed because there was no helping that there were twins. Besides, there was way more air and resources on the Ark to go around after the 100 had been sent down and a big chunk of the Ark with the former council onboard had gone crashing to Earth._

 _But a third child after the twins? That was where Pike and his new council drew the line. The one "sane member" of the council, Callie Cartwig had tried to convince Pike to not send all three girls down and to spare the girls' parents. But it had been too late. The three Thomas children's parents had been floated for hiding a third child. And all three children had been locked up._

 _Kristin stared at the three girls. And it looked like these were them. Kristin wondered if any of them would survive this. But even if they did, none of them would be so helpful to anyone else on the Ark. The three kids most likely would want some payback after their parents had been executed. Kristin knew she sure would want that if she were them. She saw a few other kids getting out of their seats. She recognized Avery Brown, a girl who was more privileged than the rest of them on the Ark. Kristin frowned. It looked like that hadn't saved her._

 _Bailey went to the ship's door. "I don't know if that's a good idea!" A boy's voice rang out. Kristin turned to see a short, brown-haired boy with broad shoulders run over. There was a thin, gold chain necklace hanging from his throat, the end of the necklace hidden under the front of his green shirt. The boy's blue eyes flashed fearfully at Bailey, "What if there are Grounders out there just waiting to kill us?"_

 _Grounders. That had been the name that had been thrown around since contact had first been made between their previous group on Earth and the Ark. The 100 and the other Ark people on Earth called people born on the ground Grounders._

 _Bailey looked back at the boy, face incredulous. "Well, we can't just stay in here. We'll eventually starve or die of thirst." Bailey turned back to the door and pressed her hand against the scanner that was the door's lock. The door's platform went slowly slapping down onto the ground. Or rather, as it turned out, slapping into a mound of completely white snow._

 _At first, none of the kids looking through the doorway of the dropship knew what they were looking at. But when the frigid air hit them, it slowly dawned on each of them what they were looking at. Gradually, each of them wrapped their arms around themselves. "Oh man," a boy next to Kristin said, making Kristin turn to him, hugging herself. "Is Virginia or wherever the hell those other Grounders are usually this cold?" The boy was about Kristin's height. He had short, black hair and frightened green eyes. The boy said, shivering, "Man, oh man. Toto, I don't think we're in Virginia." "Thanks, Dorothy." Bailey said quietly, voice evident in her lack of appreciation for the Wizard of Oz reference. She went down the platform first. Bailey was covered in a loose, thin, light blue jean jacket and her pants were thin, brown ones. Her feet just had combat boots on. Kristin really doubted that that would be efficient enough protection from the cold._

 _Bailey reached the bottom of the platform and looked around, shaking. She breathed out, her breath visible in the air. Bailey looked around and Kristin saw just out the door that there were multiple pine trees, covered with snow piles. Grey, jagged rocks stuck out from the depths of the snow. Where were the forests that the first group of Ark people had mentioned down here?_

 _Kristin said quietly, "I don't think this is Virginia. There should be way, way more trees. Where the hell are we?"_

" _Maybe we landed far away from those Grounders' territory." The short, wide shouldered boy with brown hair and blue eyes said hopefully next to Kristin. "Maybe we don't have to worry about that tribe getting at us. Like they got at the other people that came down here first."_

 _Kristin nodded. "Yeah, but did we get so far away that we can't help the other Ark people that landed first? And do we know where to find food?" She looked at the short boy who lost his smile, realizing that Kristin was right and they might be in trouble, depending on where they were specifically in the world._

" _Hey, guys!" Bailey yelled, facing the left, "Come down here and look at this! There is no freaking way we're where the other Ark people landed! No way." Kristin and the others, before they could think better of it, came running down to join Bailey. They got to the bottom of the platform and looked at where Bailey was looking. "Holy shit." One of the girls said. The sky was vast and blue. What lay in front of them was a series of huge cliffs without trees. There was a downwards cliff where a stark blue, reflecting lake lay before them._

" _Wow…" The youngest of the three sisters that had been sent down here said quietly, "It's beautiful."_

" _Yeah," The black-haired boy with green eyes snorted, "Beautiful and cold. Do you think we can use some blankets or something?" One of the girls, Avery nodded. "Yeah, I think there are some in the ship. I can go get some." She ran back up the platform into the ship, going past a few other kids. One of the remaining boys that came out of the ship gawked at the sight in front of them. "Where the hell are we?" He asked. Bailey looked back up at him. "I wish I knew. But I don't think we're in Virginia. Virginia or any place close to it would have way more trees on the cliffs. I don't see any here. And besides," Bailey added, frowning, "It's technically summer down here, right?" She shivered. "It shouldn't be this cold if it's summer back where the other Ark people are."_

" _Well, okay." A dark-skinned girl with high cheekbones and black hair cut just above her shoulders. "Then this brings us back to the question, where the hell are we?"_

" _Great question." Bailey said. "Don't know."_

" _Look!" Lorena said, marveling with joy. "There's a body of water here. Real fresh water!" She started running down the hill, her older sisters barreling after her. "Lorena, wait!" The blue-eyed girl yelled, "We don't know how to swim!"_

 _The black-haired boy with green eyes edged closer to Bailey as he looked around at the massive, rocky cliffs with snow just at the tips. "I don't get it. Where'd we land? And shouldn't we be having spears and arrows shot at us by now? This doesn't make any sense."_

" _No, it doesn't." Bailey acknowledged. Sabine and the other girl had run down with Lorena and grabbed the younger girl before she could reach the lake. "Aw, come on, Simone," Lorena groaned to the other girl, looking up at her. "Let me go in! At least let me drink some!" "Simone" shook her head. "No way. We don't know if the water is poisonous or not!"_

" _The water in the other Grounder territories aren't polluted." Kristin answered, stepping up, looking around, "Remember? We heard from the people that got here from the Ark before that the water was drinkable." "Yeah," the short boy with brown hair and blue eyes said, "But this obviously isn't the same land that the 100 and that part of the Ark dropped down to. The water here might not be safe to drink." Another girl came up. She was black with thick, black hair that got in her eyes. "No offense, but does that water look polluted? That looks like the cleanest water I've ever fucking seen." A few gasps met her answer and the black girl rolled her eyes. "Oh please, lay off. We're not on the Ark anymore. There are no adults. So ease up. We can say anything we want and it won't get them freaked out." The girl added, looking at Bailey, "How long do you think it'll be before people will start coming down this time?"_

 _Bailey shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I know the last batch of kids took off some of their wristbands. I guess so that they didn't have to listen to the Ark people anymore." The other dark-skinned girl nodded. She looked around at everyone else as Sabine and Simone dragged Lorena back. "Are we going to have to worry about that from anyone? Is anyone going to try to take off their wristbands to get back at the Ark? Or do we want everyone else to survive from the Ark?"_

 _She saw a few nods. "I'm not taking the band off." Kristin shrugged. "I don't know about everyone else, but I want my mom and dad and grandparents to come down. Don't care about the rest of you guys." The boy with the black hair and green eyes shrugged, "Hey, I'm with you on that. My mom and dad are still up there." "So are my parents." The short, brown-haired boy answered._

 _Bobbi nodded. Unlike her, a lot of people had gotten lucky. They still had their parents. Bobbi hadn't gotten so lucky. Her dad had died of a particularly bad strain of the flu. Her mom had been floated for trying to break her only child out of prison when Bobbi had been twelve. It still made the fifteen-year-old's heart feel like it was going to be ripped out at any second. But there it was. At least some of the others had way more to live for than she did._

 _Bobbi nodded. As much as she wished she could make Jaha pay for what he had done to her, he had been down here on Earth for a while. Pike wasn't responsible for her parents' deaths. Jaha had been. Even if Jaha had still been up in the Ark, like a corrupt king in his castle, she couldn't try to get the people on the Ark killed by ensuring they stay up there and die without oxygen. She wasn't going to condemn millions of people for something one man had done to her and her family._

 _Finley growled, speak for yourselves. Fucking Pike!" She stormed back into the dropship and picked up one of the pipes that had broken loose from where they had been grafted to in the ship. They lay on the floor after the crash. Finley picked up the pipe and as a nervous "West," and a tall, black-haired, Asian girl watched, Finley threw the pipe with all her might at the TV screen where Pike was giving his monologue._

 _The pipe smashed against the TV screen hard, a spider crack spreading all across the square screen. "Finley!" West yelled, turning to the TV to see the damage. The damage, as it turned out, was fairly bad. The TV cracked some more and two seconds later, black and white snow covered the entirety of the screen._

 _West groaned. "God damn it, Finley! What did_ _that_ _accomplish?"_

 _Finley shrugged and glared at West. "And what would have been accomplished by not doing it? It wouldn't have made a difference. At least this way? There's some fucking satisfaction for doing it." Finley grinned wolfishly at West and the others watching. "Tell me it didn't feel a little good to see me do that."_

 _The Asian girl next to West snickered. West turned to her and lifted her black eyebrows. The tall, Asian girl shrugged. "What?" She asked West. "It actually was pretty funny." Finley grinned at those words. "_ _Thank you._ _So glad_ _someone_ _appreciates a good telling someone to fuck off. What's your name?"_

 _The Asian girl turned back to Finley. She nodded. "Name's Casey Zhu."_

 _Finley waved her right hand. "Finley Walsh."_

 _Casey nodded again, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Finley." She looked at West. "Your name is?"_

" _West," West answered, "West Ainsley. Sorry about my rude and loud friend."_

 _Casey shrugged. "It's fine. Not at all." Casey smirked. "I kind of agree."_

 _Casey looked back through the opening of the ship, past where two boys and Bobbi stood. "So," She said nervously, taking in the mostly clear skies, taking not of the large cloud moving in. "What do we do now? It's freezing, we are way too far from any radio we could use to contact anyone on the Ark, even if they're people we'd_ _want_ _to contact on the Ark. And oh yeah, what do we do about food?"_

 _People stiffened up at Casey's last word._

 _Right. Food. They really hadn't thought of that._

" _We have stuff back in this ship, right?" One of the boys said nonchalantly. "Supplies for when we need them."_

 _"Yeah," Bobbi threw back, glaring at the large, brown-haired boy. "But how long will that last? It's probably supposed to last us a month. Maybe two at the most. Do we really want to be worrying about food last minute when we're nearly done with the rations onboard?" Bobbi was looking at the large boy in a way that said, "don't be dumb. I know you're just dumb. But don't be dumber."_

 _The large boy scowled and shook his head, "Don't be such a control freak-"_

 _Bobbi burst out laughing, startling the large boy. "So making sure we have more food. Making sure_ _you_ _have more food,_ _that's_ _being a control freak? And you want to stop me from doing it? If I'm a control freak, then what are you? A suicidal idiot?"_

" _Okay," Casey said, seeing this situation begin to get out of hand. "We don't have time for this. Like you said," She looked at Bobbi, "We need food." She looked then at the large boy who looked like he was about to start screaming at the girl across from him, past Casey. "Do you think you can help me find food?" The boy looked at Casey, startled. Casey pressed, "Your name is-?"_

" _David." The boy answered, voice slightly less angry than it had sounded a few seconds ago._

 _Casey nodded. "Okay. David. Sorry, but she does have a point." The dark-skinned girl smirked. "Thank you, Casey." Casey turned to look at her. The dark-skinned girl offered, "Name's Bobbi Shafer. And I agree. I'll go with you to get food." She smirked over at the large boy. "And you, Mr. Bad Temper?"_

 _The boy scowled again, but when Casey looked at him expectantly. David gradually stopped tensing up. Casey stepped back, relieved. "Okay then. We can go look for food." Casey looked at the other kids around her. "How does that sound? I know we've got rations. But like Bobbi said, they won't last us long. We should probably find food now."_

 _Lorena grumbled, struggling in her sisters' arms, "There's probably fish in that lake."_

 _Sabine chuckled at her sister's reaction._

 _Bailey spoke, walking up, "Food, great. But what if we_ _do_ _run into some Grounders? You guys all heard what happened on the radio. There are armies of different groups down here. What if there's one of those groups here?" "Um," Casey said, unease deep in her chest at the concept. "That's a good question." She offered a wry chuckle, with a grin, "I guess try to avoid pissing off anyone that isn't from the Ark?"_

 _She heard a snort of laughter that made her and the other kids look over in the direction of the noise. It was the black-haired boy with green eyes. He grinned. "Oh yeah, like that'll make a difference. Look, you heard the stuff on the Ark, just like I did. A kid got speared just for crossing a river. Didn't that 'floorboard girl' get abducted by one of the Grounders?"_

" _Hey, floorboard-" Lorena hissed before Simone put a hand on the girl's shoulder. Casey noted it was probably because Lorena had been hidden for so long that she took offense to "Octavia Blake's" nickname back on the Ark._

 _The black-haired boy with green eyes wasn't stopping. "Didn't a bunch of the 100 die in the first couple of weeks because of the Grounders for no damn reason? It's just a matter of, we're in their territory. The Grounders kill our people just because we're basically 'on their lawn.' Their reasons are the same reasons a redneck would have shot an outsider back in the 1990s."_

 _Casey grunted. That was a harsh assessment, but she saw what he meant. They hadn't heard anything good about the Grounders._

 _Then there was that whole "Mount Weather" fiasco. They hadn't heard the details on that one, but the things they_ _had_ _heard was that there was some alliance, but the people that were in Mount Weather were all shell-shocked and there had been no mention of the Grounders. Which meant one thing. The Grounders had been useless against the Mountain Men or were of no help at all._

 _No one knew exactly what went down at the mountain, To be frank, no one even knew why there had been a battle at the mountain. Everyone had a rough idea about the events, but there were no details. Not about what the different groups of Grounders were called. Not what their leaders names were. Not what happened at the mountain or why Mount Weather had been so important. And nothing about what had happened to the rest of the 100. If the council knew what happened, they made sure no one found out._

" _Maybe some of us should stay here if anyone gets injured. At least some of us should stay with the medicine and the bandages." Another Asian girl, smaller than Casey, with shorter, black hair spoke up. "I can stay here and help in case anyone comes back that's injured." "David" barked out loudly, "You're just scared." The girl stayed close to the door of the dropship. "I am." She admitted. "And you should be too, David. At least some of us need to be prepared if anyone gets injured."_

 _Casey nodded. "Good idea." She answered. "You have a name?" The other Asian girl rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. My name's Beryl Guo, Zhu." Casey nodded, smirking. Alright, it was a rough, probably bad plan, but it was a plan. Some of them could stay here when they got back and could help them if any of them were hurt in their search for food and fresh water. Some of them could go out for water and some of them could go out for food._

" _Well," Casey said in a loud voice before anyone else could start an argument, "Me, Bobbi and David are going to get food. You're staying here in case people need to be looked at when they get back, right?" Casey looked at Beryl. Beryl nodded. Casey looked around at the others. "Who wants to come with us?" There was a grumble next to her and Casey looked to see a tall, broad-shouldered boy grumble, "Who put you in charge?"_

 _His right shoulder was cuffed hard, making him yelp and wince. The one who had cuffed the boy in question, a tall, lanky, dark-skinned girl with long, black hair that Casey had seen being shoved into the dropship. "Shut it, Christopher." The girl said to the boy. "Does it matter who's in charge? Or that we survive? Shut up." The girl turned to Casey, smirking. "My name's Jesse. I'll come with you."_

 _Casey nodded, smiling. Casey's mouth parted a little in surprise at the other girl's bright brown eyes and sly smile. She found her heart beating a little faster, but ignored the sensation. It was leftover adrenaline from the rough landing, she imagined._

 _Now who else would stay with Beryl? And who would go looking for water?_

" _I guess other people should stay with Beryl if there's anyone hurt." A boy's voice spoke up. He walked over to stand next to Beryl. He was white, with short brown hair. Casey frowned. Though he was slimmer than David, she noted that he looked a little bit like the bad tempered boy._

 _Beryl smiled at the boy. "Thanks." She said to the boy. "I'm Beryl." The boy nodded, smiling back. "I heard. Name's Paul Stack." Paul turned back to the others. "I'll stay." "So will I." A copper skinned girl with short, brown hair and dark brown eyes answered, walking over to where Paul and Beryl stood. "I'll help anyone if they get hurt." Earning curious looks from Paul and Beryl, the girl suddenly realized the scrutiny she was under and her light brown cheeks turned a deep red. "My name's Cameron."_

 _Beryl and Paul nodded._

 _Another young boy approached. He had dark skin and thin black hair in short curls. So did a white girl with brown hair. "I'll help too. My name's Edmund Davis." The dark skinned boy said. The white girl added, "My name's Avery Brown."_

 _Casey smiled, relieved. It looked like they had a good medic group in case shit hit the fan. That wasn't to say that she believed any of them had medical training. But at least if any of them got injured, a few of them would be left to_ _try_ _to patch the other kids up._

" _Alright, alright." A snicker came from another girl with long brown hair and a cold smile, her blue eyes blazing. "Now that we have this nice, fuzzy, little arrangement, can we get a move on?" She stalked over, arms over her chest and she sent an acidic glare to Avery Brown. "Avery Brown, huh? Didn't you used to be one of the teacher's pets and more privileged than the rest of us? I guess that didn't save you in the end."_

 _Avery stiffened and she just barely visually kept herself from glaring at the other girl. "No, I guess it didn't. But I guess your attitude didn't save you from getting locked up either." The other girl snorted at her. "Fuck you." She pivoted on her heel and glared at Casey, "I'll come with you because I don't want to deal with this little 'kumbaya' shit. But I'm not listening to anyone."_

 _Finley snorted, "Someone has a stick up the ass." The girl turned on Finley, glaring at her while West looked mildly worried, "You want to go, Walsh?"_

 _Finley shrugged, smirking catlike. "Hey, I'm ready to beat your ass now, if you're ready to get all bloodied up, bitch."_

" _OKAY," Casey snapped loudly. "I think everyone's forgetting something. Food. We're going to get it. Now can we leave, please?" Casey hoped the bad tempered girl would come with them if only to cause less problems for the kids that were staying here._

 _The brown-haired girl with blue eyes glared at Finley before turning around and going over to Casey, tapping her foot impatiently. Jesse looked at the girl. "And you are?" "Parker Reed," The brown-haired girl threw at Jesse coldly. "Not that you care." Jesse nodded. "You'd be right."_

 _Parker looked mildly offended that Jesse dared not to argue that she cared about Parker's name._

 _Casey tried not to groan. This girl immediately struck her as immature, but she said nothing. They needed to get a move on and not stall further._

 _Outside of the small group of people that were about to leave, Lorena tried to move forward to join them. She was restrained by Simone and Sabine. "No way." Sabine said strictly, "You're not going with them until we know more about where we are." Lorena pouted, glaring up at her older big sister. "But Sabine," She grumbled. "No buts," Sabine answered, "We need to make sure that you don't get hurt." Lorena shook her head. "I won't get hurt." "Lorena," Simone said quietly, giving a slight smile to the smaller girl. "Let it go. Staying here for a little longer won't kill you."_

" _You don't know that." Lorena said dramatically. "Have you heard of dying of boredom? Please? I've never seen Earth before."_

" _None of us have." Simone said dryly. "You'll survive a few more hours not going further on Earth. You can explore a little with me and with Sabine. But you're not going out there with the others until we're sure we're safe."_

 _After a few seconds of squirming, Lorena sighed and sagged, not struggling anymore. She breathed out, disappointed._

 _Back with the main group, the black-haired boy with green eyes walked over to where Parker, Casey, David, Jesse and Bobbi were. "I'll come too. Probably a good idea to have at least one charming person amongst the more serious ones," He gestured to Casey, Jesse and Bobbi, "And the bad tempered people." He gestured to Parker and David. "I'll be your comic relief."_

" _Oh yeah," Parker grumbled, "I bet you're hilarious."_

 _The black-haired boy grinned. "Way more than you, volcano girl."_

 _Parker turned on the boy, "Fuck you."_

 _The black-haired boy's grin widened. "Anytime, Parker."_

 _Parker blanched at the boy with anger and Casey sighed, shaking her head. "What's your name?" The boy did a mock bow. "Mario Bianchi." Casey nodded, withholding her aggravated sigh. "Okay, then, Mario. Let's go." This would prove to be interesting._

 _She looked at the rest of the group. "I think maybe we should come back in at least two hours. If we're not back in two hours, can people who aren't going to patch people up come out to see if we're okay?"_

 _Casey looked at the others who weren't in Beryl's makeshift medic group. Finley and West looked at each other. There was no response for a few seconds._

 _Kristin sighed, stepping forward nodding. "I will." She said, sending a dark glare at the other kids. "Since the rest of these cowards won't do it, I will." Before any of the now flustered looking kids could answer, Bailey spoke as well, "I'll look for you too. Just do me a favor? Don't die. We're kind of helpless down here without any clue in a world of Grounders. So we need as much help as we can get. So don't die, please. Right now it only looks like we've got each other."_

 _Casey nodded, smiling appreciatively at Bailey and Kristin. It was good to see that some of them had their priorities in check. "Thanks you both." She said, "Sorry, I didn't catch your names." Bailey nodded. "My name's Bailey" Kristin spoke quickly, "Name's Kristin Blue."_

 _Casey nodded. Another dark skinned girl with long black hair came over, looking mildly bored with the whole situation. "My name's Cody Smith. And I'll come and get you idiots too if I have to." The girl said. Casey chuckled. She didn't mind how this "Cody" put it. If it meant they got the help they needed, then how could she be upset?_

" _Thanks." Casey answered. She turned to the now indignant looking Parker and David. Casey imagined these reactions were the result of Cody's remark about lack of intelligence in their group. "Okay, guys," She said, speaking loudly before anyone could start arguing, "Let's go. The sooner we get food, the better."_

 _Casey started moving, Jesse and Mario following her. Bobbi walked in tow. "Hey, ass-wipes," Bobbi said over to David and Parker, "Are the two of you just going to stand there with your thumbs up your asses, or are we actually going to get some help? Are you guys going to be helpful or what?"_

 _David and Parker both gave her dirty looks and sauntered after the group._

 _The group walked along. Bobbi said quietly to Casey, "What do you think we should do if we actually run into Grounders?" Casey cringed. "Uh, run. I guess." Bobbi chuckled and nodded. "Sounds about right."_

 _The six teenagers went down the large slope and into the plains up ahead, walking between the two large, clear lakes, going up ahead were several other tall hills awaited them._

 _Once they were far enough away, Cody snorted, "About time there was a little more peace and quiet." She smirked as she looked at the others. "Does anyone else want to cause more racket? Please shut up." Cody went over to where Sabine, Simone and Lorena were just standing at the top of the hill that led directly down to the side of one of the lakes. She said dryly to the two older girls of the three sisters, "I seriously doubt that water that clear is polluted. Either way, I'm thirsty. So get out of the way."_

 _Sabine and Simone pulled their little sister out of the way, Sabine's face impassive, Simone's eyebrows lifted curiously at Cody's bluntness. Cody stalked past them and went down the hill. Kristin watched the other Native-American girl. She had to admit that Cody was a little braver than her on this front. Cody, dressed in a simple, dark red T-shirt and jeans and white and black sneakers, kneeled down in front of the water and slipped her hands under the water, cupping up some of the water and bringing it to her lips._

 _Kristin, Bailey, the Thomas sisters, and a few others watched curiously, wondering if whatever was wrong with the water, if anything, would affect Cody immediately. After a few seconds, Cody suddenly jumped up from the dirt and backed away, climbing up the hill, eyes wide. Her copper skin had paled somewhat. "What is it?" Kristin asked, worried, walking closer. Cody turned around and nodded to the lake, droplets of water dripping from her lips. "There's something in the water. Something big."_

 _The other kids whirled and stared at the water, seeing a large, sleek, fur covered head start to emerge from the water, before slipping back under. "What the fuck?" Bailey asked, hissing slightly, eyes wide. For a moment, Kristin's thoughts strayed to her father and mother's stories about the "Unktehi," the horned serpent spirit of myth spoken of by the descendants of the Sioux tribe. But she dismissed it. This place didn't look even a little like where the Sioux were from, from the pictures her grandparents had shown her. Even if the serpent existed, why would the serpent be here? And that thing looked more furry than scaly and she saw no horns._

" _What was that?" The stout, brown-haired boy asked, looking at the lake uneasily._

" _I don't know." Cody said. "But when I got a look at it under the water, it looked like a seal. A big, fat, massive seal. The size of a small freight ship." One of the kids that had volunteered to patch the others up, Cameron, walked over, looking over the edge at where this supposed "seal" had been. "A seal?" She asked. "Aren't seals gentle?"_

 _Cody snorted, "Yeah, if they have meat to pacify them. They're meat eaters, Cameron. And that one was the size of a big ass tree. It would probably eat more than half of this group if it could." Everyone murmured uneasily, keeping further from the water._

 _Sabine and Simone tightened their grip on Lorena, keeping her from the hill's edge._

 _By the stunned and now disturbed Finley, the black-haired girl, Blair inched closer to Finley and West. When she was close to them, she said quietly, voice timid, "Finley? West?" Both older girls tensed and turned to look at her. Blair gulped, looking in the direction of the water, "Can I stay near you guys? I'm…I'm really nervous." Finley took a moment before nodding. "Yeah, sure kid. I think we all need to stay close."_

 _Far off, in the distance, standing on the edge of a jagged, grey hill top, looking over where the clunky, metal ship had crashed, watching the group of youths stare at the water and just discover the presence of the Lakra, four large warriors, wreathed in white fur, bearing wooden and fur masks with animal faces on them peered down at the sight below. Their faces were painted white. Their dark brown eyes and blue eyes gleamed with predatory light._

 _The group of frightened Skaikru were only looking towards the lake, away from the taller cliff at their backs. The four warriors stood on the jagged edges jutting out from beneath the patches of snow and the thick, light brown grass._

 _The slimmest of the four said in Azgedasleng to the other three, her eyes never leaving the intruders, "Go. Tell the kwin. She will want to know about this. I will remain and watch these Skaikru." She looked at the fourth of their number. "You, follow the six that left. Follow them to the other hills." Both warriors nodded at their tasks and walked their separate ways. The largest of them, Genow went to inform the kwin of the intruders, and the other warrior, Flynt, went to pursue the six children that went off to find food._

 **Author's note:**

 **Lakra: "Seal" in Azgedasleng**

 **Ro:** **Heck yes, fuck Abby. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea for her to let Clarke stay in her custody on the Ark? Anyone paid even a little attention would know that Abby was a shitty parent. And she's proven to consistently been a bad parent. How many more chances should we give this abuser? As far as I'm concerned, Jake should have taken Clarke away from Abby a long time ago on the Ark. But now, thanks to that awful woman, Jake can't even be there for his daughter. And he would have been such good support for Clarke during her time on Earth. I guess Abby took that from Clarke.**

 **As for the ring of fire, yeah, people actually think that was cowardly? What was she supposed to do, let the Grounders kill the rest of the 100? Again, I have no doubt in my mind if Bellamy had been the one to think of the ring of fire or if Clarke just had a dick, then the ring of fire instance would never be uttered by anyone in the fandom ever again. It's a nasty, double standard thing. The dick is holy thanks to misogyny and there are many misogynists in this fandom. Look at how many people rush and trip over their feet to defend Bellboy, Murphy and Jasper.**


	21. The Beginning: The Trapped People

**Ro:** **Thank you. Thank you. That's exactly my feelings. Sure, it's a TV show, but if someone is going to defend actions like throwing a radio into a river and getting 150 people killed and later potentially thousands on the Ark, all to save your own life, or if you excuse someone's actions that include killing three hundred people in their sleep and then blaming it on someone years younger than him, then what does that say about the people defending that person?**

 **And while I really, really don't like Lexa, if I have to choose between her and Bellboy, then I'll take Lexa. Because the way I see it, choosing between Clexa and Bellarke is like choosing between chicken and a tub of shit full of maggots. If you have a tub with mountains of shit in it with maggots crawling through it as one of your options for the food, you do NOT complain about how badly cooked or not cooked the chicken is.**

 **So I will take the badly cooked Clexa chicken dinner if I have to choose between Lexa as a love interest for Clarke or that piece of shit that the misogynists in this fandom want her to end up with. Over a Bellarke shit tub with maggots in it. As opposed to misogynistic male worshipping Bellarkers who basically pour a whole gallon of shit into their mouths.**

 **And why do they choose the tub of shit with maggots? Because they're just that shitty of people. Misogynists in a very pure, disgusting form.**

 **But I'd prefer still the Ontari and Anya special. Those are REAL leaders.**

 **Trigger warnings for violence (extreme violence at the end of this chapter), mentions of cannibalism, racism, hatred of other cultures, races and religions, and abducting and murder.**

 **A very particular type of trigger warning here. Trigger warnings for mentions of dark skinned people being pushed out of their homes and white supremacist in society rearing their ugly heads.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 21: The Beginning: Part 2:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Having just conveyed what they were hoping to accomplish to the queen, Clarke felt a slight weight come off of her, feeling like she and the others had just accomplished something huge by asking something that was considered as profane as what they had just asked was considered. The Milgreds were considered unholy, even by the Azgeda. The Sowlas were considered outcasts who didn't belong, because they dared claim that they were just as much Azgeda as the lighter skinned Ice Nation, and the bandits had had the worst history with the Azgeda besides the Trikru and the Mountain Men.

So this was asking a lot. But just asking for permission to make allies with these people had felt like a huge task had just been started. And that was progress, even if it was shaky progress.

Nia looked at those kneeling before her with a strange mixture of awe, shock, confusion and fascination.

"You are suggesting," The queen said at last, making everyone kneeling tense, "That you try to ally with the people who have raided us for years. Ally with the Sowlas who deemed themselves too great to bow their heads to a superior warrior," Nia raised her head up at this conviction. "And to ally with _her?_ " Clarke swallowed harshly. So that would be the issue here? Razeeta? Despite Nia's claim that she was more worthy of the Ice Nation throne than those of darker skin color, racism was not what Nia was focusing on. Nia was focusing on Razeeta, the woman who she owed a debt to.

Clarke spoke before anyone else could, making sure her voice was firm. "I can see great benefit of having the queen of the Milgreds in your debt, my kwin."

There was a pause and Clarke could feel Nia's confusion. "In _my_ debt?" The queen asked. Clarke nodded and lifted her head a little to look straight at the queen. "Yes, kwin Nia. Your debt. You may be indebted to Razeeta now, but she and her people are running out of villages they can pillage and people they can abduct and eat. Eventually, their resources _will_ run dry. It might not be in a few years. But it will happen. Even if they turn to eating animals, they will eventually starve because resources will run out. Razeeta and her people are in a secluded area of the Ice Nation. Our territory and many other armies are blocking her. If there is an alliance between her people and ours and if she and her people are taken under your protection, and Razeeta and her people will be allowed past our territory, then she would have many more resources. So she would be, perhaps permanently indebted to _you_ , my kwin."

Clarke watched the comprehension dawn on the queen's face. She could see how tempted Nia was by this suggestion.

Queen Nia was indebted to Razeeta, the queen of the Milgreds. The only reason why Nia had not wiped out Razeeta and her people for not bowing to her had been _because_ of this debt. Nia owed Razeeta.

According to Ontari, Razeeta had made sure that Nia kept her word by making a blood oath with her.

By doing what Clarke suggested, Nia potentially not only would be repaying her debt to Razeeta, but she would be providing so much that Razeeta would owe Nia a thousand times more than Nia could ever owe Razeeta. Nia was clearly tempted by what she was hearing. The Ice Queen cocked her head at Clarke. "You came up with this idea, Wanheda?"

Clarke nodded, bowing her head. "Ain, my kwin. If you deem that I not step near the Milgreds' territory, you have my solemn vow that I will obey you." That was a lie, of course, but appearances had to be upheld for their survival. There was a long silence before Nia spoke again. "And the Sowlas? How will we get them to comply? They might be a larger group than the Milgreds and so need more food than they do. But they are in no need of more resources." Nia grimaced and Clarke looked up at her. The queen scoffed. "Those savages. They take the good resources in the far east. If they'd just move, we'd have enough resources to last us forty years or more. We wouldn't have to send warriors out constantly to retrieve more resources, or rely on the weak Heda."

Clarke tried not to smirk. She partially agreed with what Nia said about the Commander. The rest, no, but about the Commander? More than yes.

She spoke quickly, "Exactly why there may be benefits to allying with the Sowlas." Clarke said. "They are too weak to recognize your sovereignty, my kwin. But as you say, there are many of them. And they may be of use to you. If we can interest them in our protection, they will eventually bow their heads to you as they should have a long time ago."

It disgusted Clarke a little to speak like that, implying that the Sowlas were by default unworthy of ruling because of their skin. But she knew she had to say the right words. It still made her skin crawl to say those words. Like she needed to rinse her mouth out with soap to get the bad taste out.

Clarke and her family's intentions of course were quite different than the ones that she tried to sell to the queen. If the Sowlas joined, the Sowlas being off a far larger number than the queen's army, though lacking in as sturdy weaponry and horses, would naturally be a boon to Ontari's rebellion's cause. All of them, and the number of Ontari's troops, Clarke's troops, the Milgreds and any bandit and nomad they could get their hands on versus the queen and her army would offer up a fierce battle. And potentially, even Nia's death.

They just had to get the Sowlas to see it that way.

The Sowlas had good resources. But for how long? Because they didn't have any place under the queen, the queen had left them to rot. So any food out there in their specific area would eventually run out. The crops that Nia's people grew themselves, while dying when it was too cold, were still plentiful. These people weren't just strong, but resourceful. Given the previous Commanders never gave any real help to Nia's people, they had learned to be inventive and take more than they thought they'd need. More seeds from plants. And later, more animals to breed, since they never got that many from the Coalition that Lexa had formed.

The downside was that their crops weren't as reliable as the Sowlas' crops. The Sowlas' crops were far tougher and lived longer. The downside for the Sowlas was that eventually their crops would run out unless they could expand where they could plant their seeds.

And the other downside? The Queen's army had monopolized the market on fishing in this area and the ocean levels next to where the Sowlas lived. The places in Azgeda that the queen had control of were segmented. She knew she couldn't control the Milgreds or the Sowlas, so instead, she had her warriors out in droves, patrolling the border between the Sowlas and the sea, every hour or so, making sure that the Sowlas couldn't get any fish from the ocean. They did the same with the Milgreds, though the Milgreds preferred going after human beings instead of fish.

That left the Milgreds to hunting the humans and the Sowlas to going after animals that were in colder climates and so they didn't have access to as fresh meat.

Then there was another matter. The resources beyond all Azgeda borders. The reason why all villages of the Azgeda were in such a locked area and couldn't travel far to get food was because of the chokehold that Nia had on the entire nation. She had decreed a law. No one was to search for resources, crops, animals, fish or otherwise further than the border _Elishmar,_ the border of what used to be Finland and what began at what used to be Russia.

In other words, all the people of the Azgeda lands were trapped effectively. If anyone was spotted trying to find food in the _R_ _aholkeks_ -the "unknown lands," being what used to be Russia and everywhere else, they would be executed in the same manner as Emerson was to be tomorrow. Nia claimed it was to protect her people, but Ontari, Clarke and everyone else in their group knew it for what it was. Control. Obsessive control.

And in all fairness, if Nia didn't have such a chokehold separating all groups from each other and other resources, it wouldn't be so bad. The entirety of what used to be Norway, Sweden and Finland at their disposal, not to mention the small island that they were allowed to sail to keep extra provisions would be up for grabs. _Gemare._ What used to be Denmark.

At least it wouldn't be so bad, _if_ everyone who wasn't the queen, Ontari, Clarke and some of the twenty-six had free reign to roam those areas. But everyone did not.

The Milgreds, given their location, of course were inconvenienced. There was an army blocking the south and the rest of the Azgeda. And any attempt that might be made to go out into the sea to get food or reach _Gemare_ -what was once Denmark, would be thwarted by the queen's navy.

Bandits and most other villages were in a precarious position as well. They'd be hunted down by the queens raiding parties. Many of which, Clarke and her family had unfortunately been a part of. But the Sowlas were also deeply confined. Perhaps their situation was the worst. While their resources weren't as good as the queen's main kingdom's resources, there was still much of them and their resources, while lacking in strength was plentiful. But because moving from where they were would mean that the Sowlas would have no home, because the queen would move in and take the resources, this left the Sowlas with little to do but stay where they were and block the queen's armies from getting far up the neck of Norway without splitting the parties up.

This meant that small parties had tended to go past that neck of Norway, but little much else except that. Sure, the queen could have ordered the deaths of all the Sowlas, and they would have probably succeeded, but there was no guaranteeing how many of the queen's soldiers would be lost. And there were certain warriors, like Ontari, Clarke and their twenty-six that the queen could not afford to lose. The Sowlas might not have been as many as the queen's army, but they were the second biggest united group after the queen's immediate people.

So for all the queen knew, she could lose at least half of the people in some of her armies. And she wasn't willing to take that wager.

If Clarke, Ontari and the others could convince the Milgreds and the Sowlas, then even if it was in appearance, they might join the queen's army, for only appearances sake, and the patrols keeping them from any sea life to consume would be put an end to. And they'd be provided with more of the vegetation that the queen had made absolutely sure to corner the market on as well, making sure that no Milgred or Sowla could grow their own reliable crops.

Both other groups of people of course had their own crops. What Grounder village didn't? But between the patrols and even some attacks on the queen's warriors parts, some of those crops' growth had been sabotaged, the fields burned amongst other things.

If the Milgreds and the Sowlas joined the queen, if only in name, then the attacks and the monopoly on the crops and the sea life would stop.

But first, they had to convince the queen. And then they had to convince the Milgreds and the Sowlas.

The Milgreds were a gamble for more than a hundred reasons because of what they ate.

But for the Sowlas it was a sticky situation for an entirely different reason. The common misconception was that the Sowlas were the descendants of the people who originally owned the Azgeda symbol. That was true, but it was also more complicated than that. _ALL_ Azgeda were descendants of the original tribe that had the Azgeda symbol. All of them were. Many of them were also descendants of the survivors of Norway, Finland and Sweden as well. But the majority of the Hopi tribe had fled here to Norway. It was just that Nia, Nia's father's side of the family and her maternal grandmother's side and many others in this part of the tribe were more closely related to the survivors of the Nordic people. So a great deal of the Azgeda in what used to be "mid Norway" were a mix of black, copper-skinned people and white people.

It was the same case in the Southern part where the Milgreds were. Though in the Milgreds' case, the majority of them were white. This was because they were mostly made up of Nordic and Finnish people.

But higher up and at east and west? That was another story.

The Sowlas were just one of the many groups of people descended from the original Azgeda, that had darker and more copper skin that Nia's group. And black hair was far more common amongst them than blonde, light brown or red hair. According to Cody, who recognized the Azgeda symbol, it was the Hopi peoples' symbol. The Hopi were a Native American tribe that mostly lived in what used to be northeastern Arizona. Cody's grandparents and great-uncle who had escaped from Earth on the Ark were from the same tribe. From the Hopi tribe. So Cody had known what the Azgeda symbol was as soon as she had seen it.

The problem was that while a new culture had come into being after the bombs hit, racism had been slow to die out. The whiter and lighter skinned people in the tribe that had fled America to go to Norway, after arrangements had been made for where different tribes were to go, had taken control and refused other people get higher up the ladder. Not to mention the lighter skinned Swedish, Finnish and Nordic people started populating. And if the stories that Clarke and the twenty-six heard were anything to go by, it was quite similar to power struggles between people of different skin color in history before the bombs hit. Those with white and lighter skinned _conveniently_ made sure that those with darker skin couldn't gain more power. And eventually? The groups of darker skin demanded to be acknowledged just as much part of the tribe as those with white and light skin were.

And then the Sowlas' exile occurred. That had been when they started calling themselves the Sowlas.

The other groups of the tribe who lived in the mid part of what used to be Norway and the western parts? They were branched off groups. All descended from the Hopi people too. All dark-skinned like the Sowlas. But they had left of their own free will. Unlike the Sowlas. They probably had seen how things had been escalating beforehand and fled to live in different parts of the Ice Nation, fearing for their lives. Fearing they'd be killed for how they looked. There were survivors in Norway as well, before the bombs hit. People who turned to an old religion in Norway. "Nordic gods." And between the Nordic survivors and other survivors that came to Norway the numbers grew and two different religions formed in Azgeda. Gradually, other foreigners had migrated and many other groups of what had once been the Hopi, now the Azgeda, fled the main part of where Nia's headquarters were.

That was where all the different villages around Norway came from. All the people that Nia sent them after? They were considered traitors. But all they had wanted was to be seen as citizens, acknowledged as human beings and given all the safety and food that any non dark-skinned Azgeda would be given. But they refused to bow. They refused to bow to the lighter skinned people.

That was why this was going to be so complicated. Ontari, Clarke and the others intended to dethrone Nia. Share resources and land with the Sowlas. But there was a complication. What they would be suggesting to the Sowlas elders was for them, dark-skinned people to bow to a white monarch, if only in appearance. It was particularly tense a thought, given what the Sowlas' history with Nia's family had been.

Matters of religion were somewhat tense too. The Sowlas and many other villages, dark-skinned and light-skinned alike believed in the old Hopi gods and spirits. What Clarke knew of those beliefs, she knew from Cody. Tawa the creator spirit, Spider Grandmother. Amongst other gods, goddesses and spirits. But Ontari's people in this area? Their beliefs varied. From the old Nordic gods. Odin, Thor, Freya and the like, to the Hopi gods, goddess and spirits like Spider Grandmother and Tawa. Though Nia worshipped Odin, as long as you bowed to her, she couldn't care less which gods you worshipped. There were many who believed in the Hopi gods and goddesses and spirits who had bowed to Nia so they could keep their homes.

It was not a rarity to find tribes with more than one religion fighting for power or even sharing power. The Sankru had three different religions in their population-if what Lexa and Anya told Clarke and Wells was true in Polis. And apparently, the Ouskejonkru had as many as five different religions in their population. From what Clarke gleaned, the Trikru consisted of three religions.

But the queen, while worshipping the Nordic gods instead of the gods of her ancestors, the Hopi, did not care about the Sowlas' religion. She did not hate them for their religious beliefs. She hated them for not bowing to her. And on a deep-rooted level, considered them inferior to her because of their skin. She didn't care about religion at all though. It was why she never bothered Glenn about his Jewish practices or the people that showed interest in Judaism when Glenn spoke of it. As long as Glenn bowed his head to her like everyone else in the kingdom did, she did not care. Glenn's practices on the Jewish holidays that he kept track of were not looked down on. There were many practices and dances that both those who believed in the Nordic gods and goddesses did, and that those who believed in the Hopi gods, goddesses and spirits did. And those that were not of Hopi descent put were of Native American descent, still, like Cameron, Bailey, Martin, Kristin and Edmund, were welcomed into the tribal dances if they wanted. Why wouldn't they be? They bowed their heads to the queen just as much as anyone in Nia's kingdom.

There was no judgment when it came to practices that might be unfamiliar or familiar but of different religions. Just judgment when it came to lack of total submission.

And the Sowlas refused to bow.

It was a strong possibility that the Sowlas would not cooperate, so Clarke and Ontari admitted to each other in private that they may need other help. Hence the other allies around them. Those other allies, as they had left earlier, before the Sowlas' exile, did not take as much offense to the idea of bowing before the queen as the Sowlas likely would. Especially if they had the promise of the queen's death afterwards. And the history wasn't as complicated.

And the bandits, nomads and orphans naturally were more backup.

If the Sowlas did not ally with them because they asked the Sowlas to bow to the queen to "keep up an appearance," then they would just have to use other options. Even if they didn't keep up the appearance as needed, they would still give a place in their new council when this blew over that the Sowlas could fill. Clarke had spoken with Ontari. And while Ontari had refused, saying that if the Sowlas did not participate in the rebellion, they deserved no compensation, Clarke had refused what Ontari said. The queen had oppressed the Sowlas enough. And Sowlas deserved to speak for themselves on the council just like any other group in Azgeda.

Ontari had eventually agreed, with hesitation.

So after hopefully cementing an alliance with the Milgreds, the Sowlas might be willing to listen.

Clarke, from her kneeling position, took a glance at Cody. This was where Cody would be a key figure. Clarke knew that she nor Ontari could not speak to the Sowlas. She had no right, unless they requested her presence. And she knew that. She was not Hopi. Cody was. Though Cody had been born on the Ark, she was Hopi. She was Azgeda. That was why Clarke was glad that Cody was coming with her to the south, to confront the Milgreds.

Along the way, she and Cody could talk. Clarke knew that Cody wouldn't like what she would be suggesting to her. Cody would be flustered and would think that she shouldn't be the one to speak to the Sowlas since she didn't have as high a rank as Bailey, Martin, Cameron and Kristin did. But Bailey, Cameron and Kristin were Sioux, not Hopi. And Martin's mother was Cherokee. Edmund's paternal grandfather had been Cherokee. Cody was the only almost full-blooded Hopi in their immediate group as far as anyone knew. Cody had long since felt like she was an outsider amongst her own people since finding out that the Azgeda were descended from the Hopi. The months of fighting alongside the Azgeda warriors had changed that a bit, thankfully. But this would be asking Cody for a lot. Clarke knew that.

Cody was a warrior, first and foremost. Unlike Clarke herself, Ontari, Kristin, Bailey, Finley, West, Mario, Jesse, Casey, Avery, Bobbi, Glenn, Beryl and Paul, Cody was not experienced in politics. None of them, save for Clarke and Ontari had been when the twenty-six had first touched down to Earth. But unlike some of the others, Cody had never been an ambassador to other villages, never formed treaties.

Cody most likely would consider what would eventually be asked of her to be somewhat overwhelming. Clarke tensed at the thought. She didn't want to saddle Cody with this. There would be no danger sending Cody to the Sowlas. The Sowlas by default were not violent. They were reasonable. It wasn't like approaching the bandits or the Milgreds.

But it wasn't the physical danger level that was the problem. It was having Cody go to the Sowlas, her people that were related to her, yet were so different from her. And ask for their help. To ask them to bow to a white monarch who had oppressed them. Cody most likely would feel like a traitor for doing that if she went through with it. It was a terrible burden to put on Cody's shoulders, when Cody didn't know how to act as a messenger, much less to ask people she had blood in common with to bow to an oppressor. Cody's awareness of her difference in birthplace from the Sowlas probably wouldn't help the thoughts she'd have on the matter. Cody was of the Ark and lived amongst her Hopi community on the Ark. There were several Native American communities on the Ark. And the Hopi tribe onboard the Ark still called themselves Hopi and still were strong in their traditions. Given down here the Hopi had changed quite a bit, this would be tense for Cody to go through.

And Clarke knew it would weigh on Cody. She had wanted to keep Cody from those burdens like she had wanted to keep all of the twenty-six and all the kids she and Ontari had taken in away from those burdens. But unfortunately there was no avoiding it now. Cody was the best choice for this. She didn't want Cody to have to face this task. But Clarke needed to speak with Cody about this nonetheless.

There was no choice.

And Cody was the most suitable. She was one of them and she was an Azgeda warrior. And she was Hopi.

Clarke hoped that Cody could forgive her for asking her to do this. She hoped she wasn't about to ask too much.

And to ask the Sowlas to bow to the queen? It was beyond unimaginable. Clarke ignored the punch to her heart. If Cody didn't forgive her for getting her to try to get her people to bow their heads to the oppressive queen, Clarke would not blame Cody. Not even a little. If Cody hated her after this, she'd understand one hundred percent.

The queen got up off her throne and started walking down the steps. When she was at the middle step, she stopped and began to speak quietly. "I will allow this." Clarke froze, glancing up, hopeful now. The queen continued, showing no sign that she cared about the surprised looks he was getting. She kept speaking, "You will execute the last Mountain Man in the morning, Klark. And after that? You will find a way to send a message to your people in the Trikru lands. After that? You will send a letter to the Milgreds informing them of your eventual arrival."

The queen added at the startled silence in the room, "You will not fail in bringing me the Skaikru, Klark. And you will have the Milgreds under my command." Clarke nodded, head bowing down. "Yes, my kwin." Clarke took a huge breath. And the plan was moving forward. It felt like a huge feat and the plan was moving.

The queen said calmly, "You will execute the Mountain Man tomorrow morning. We will discuss the rest after we toss his body out to rot and put his head on a stick outside of the castle wall. For now, I bid you goodnight, Wanheda." Nia looked at Ontari, "Daughter."

Clarke automatically, along with Ontari, Farron and everyone else bowed their heads to the floor.

The queen waved her hand and left the room, walking along the floor, past the group and followed by the guards. The guards went along the floor. Nia and the guards disappeared past the twenty-six, Clarke, Farron and Ontari. They walked to the doors and opened them up, stepping out into the main hall.

When the doors closed, Clarke, Ontari, Farron and the others all lifted themselves up off the floor. They faced each other. "That went a lot better than we thought." Glenn said, smirking. Rora leaned in and kissed his throat. Clarke sighed, "Well, I don't think there's anything we can do now. We've done what we can tonight." She bit her lower lip. "Everyone should get rest tonight. We have a lot we need to do tomorrow." She received several nods and uneasy, quiet confirmations.

Clarke smiled at everyone, hiding her own discomfort. She understood everyone's tenseness. To sum up what tomorrow was going to be, they were going to be witnessing Clarke skinning an old enemy alive, taking his heart out, then decapitating him. After that massive stress trip, Clarke would be contacting her people back in the Trikru territory. After not having anything to do with them for seven months.

And then she'd send a letter that would mention to the village in the South that some of them would be going to one of the most dangerous territories in the world. And facing a clan of cannibals.

"Goodnight, Clarke." Blair said. After a few seconds she lunged forward and hugged Clarke around the waist. Clarke stroked Blair's mane of black hair, hugging her back. After Blair pulled away from her, Clarke gave her a nod and the other twenty-six trailed away towards the stairs to their rooms, several of them hugging Clarke tightly and promising they understood everything Clarke would need to do tomorrow.

Clarke watched as they went to the stairs. She said gently to Ontari who was watching her sadly, "I think maybe tonight, Farron had better sleep in one of his siblings' rooms."

Ontari nodded, a slight smile touching her lips. Clarke smirked. Ontari got the idea. And for that, they'd need someone to make sure Farron stayed elsewhere.

Clarke started guiding Farron off to the stairs. Frank and Kozarr would be sharing a room tonight and Rora and Glenn would certainly be sharing a room. As if they could do anything else after not getting a few nights together in a while. And Finley would be joining Jarra in her room eventually. But Clarke knew the others' schedules, so she'd ask one of them.

She knew they all loved Farron, so they wouldn't mind. She was sure they'd get the idea as soon as she emphasized that she wanted some alone time with Ontari. She imagined Mario and Kristin would be the quickest on the offering of babysitting duty.

When Clarke, Ontari and Farron reached the stairs, Clarke's left hand went out and wrapped around Ontari's. She looked at Ontari, who glanced at her, startled and gave the black-haired woman a smoky look full of desire. Ontari's confused look morphed into an expression of surprise, then a grin of satisfaction crossed the other young woman's features.

Clarke gave a small chuckle, ruffling Farron's hair with her other hand at the curious look she got from her son. She glanced again at her lover. She and Ontari needed some alone time right now. Especially after what was going to start happening tomorrow.

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

 **Six months and two weeks ago**

 _Beryl watched Edmund inspect the bottom half of the ship that had crashed down on the ground. "How is it?" She asked the other. "Oh boy, totaled." Edmund said. "The rear is completely totaled. The dropship's dead, I think."_

" _So what?" Cody asked, still eyeing the water as if she expected for the seal to come shooting out of the water at them. "It's not like we're going to try to get into the ship and take off or anything. Or like we're going to be using it much except for resources." "I know," Edmund said in aggravation, "But what about other people that get down here? How will their landing be?" Edmund turned around and looked at Cody who's back was to him as he said in emphasis, "Will their landing be_ _safe?_ _That's what I'm worried about."_

 _Cody waved her hand. "Ah hell, Davis, we survived, so bigger pods will survive too. Everyone will be fine. The biggest thing we have to worry about are wild animals and other people." Cody turned back around and shrugged, smirking, "The only thing I'm worried about is if the Grounders kill everyone. Or if the Ark people die because they've killed each other before they even get here."_

 _Finley nodded. "Yeah, that's likely going to happen." She grimaced. "The way things were going up there? I'm surprised there's anyone in West and my section of the Ark left."_

" _Yeah," Another girl with dark skin grumbled, "Things are turning to shit up there." Finley turned in the direction of the voice. She recognized the girl. Dallas Allen. She and West grew up in the same part of the Ark. She and West had never been close with the girl. They just knew each other by name. "How'd you get here, Dallas?" Finley asked, snorting. Dallas shrugged. "Same way you did, I guess. Because the Ark has too many stupid rules."_

 _Finley nodded. "Yeah. That's true." While she smirked at Dallas, she felt a presence staying close to her person. She looked down at Blair who was still staying close to her, looking frightened. She nodded to the girl and looked back at the lake, making sure that thing, whatever it was, didn't get any closer to them._

 _Cody and the others were watching the lake as well. Sabine stood protectively in front of Lorena and Simone was holding the younger girl, making sure she couldn't go anywhere near the lake._

 _Finley looked at West who stayed close to her. Those other six people, Casey and the other five people, had been gone for almost an hour now. Finley was sure of it. It was a rough estimate, but it had to be about an hour._

" _So," Finley said, looking at Kristin, Cody and Bailey, "How many of us are going if the others aren't back in an hour?"_

 _Cody waved her hand. "I told you guys. I'll go." She glared at the water where that thing had emerged for half a second. "Anything to get away from that monstrosity." "Same." Kristin said. "Besides, it would be good to check out our surroundings."_

 _Finley chuckled, looking out at the wide, open landscapes where there were probably thousands of places for Grounders to hide with their spears, swords and bows and arrows._

" _Better you guys than me." She mumbled, earning a mock glare from West._

 _Above them, standing on their rocky, large perch, remained the two fur covered warriors, staring down at them, watching. Genow would be arriving at the queen's palace by now and delivering the message of the new Sky people on the ground now. And the queen would deliver the orders of what to do next._

 **The main Azgeda Kingdom-the middle of Norway, between east and west, upper Norway**

 _The queen had heard what her warrior, Genow had to tell her. There were new Skaikru here in their territory. Not in the Trikru's territory. In the Azgeda territory. Queen Nia slid back into her stone throne, the smooth bone and stone meshing against her fur covered back perfectly. She smiled, all too satisfied. She felt all the eyes upon her. Nia did not care for the opinions of her people on what to do about the Skaikru. She knew many of those under her rule would suggest killing them. But Nia had too much to invest in them to kill them._

 _Wanheda was Skaikru. The Commander of Death. And Heda and Heda's general's hodness._

 _The queen had heard the news from her messengers. Wanheda had fled from her people after she had destroyed everyone in the Mountain, conquering their age old enemy._

 _As soon as Nia had learned this, she had ordered her messengers to follow the Mountain Destroyer and bring her to Nia. Even as Nia thought about what to do next, Wanheda was being taken by her guards and being brought from the Floukru's territory on the motorized boat and brought here in shackles, kept under control with drugged food, per the queen's instructions._

 _Wanheda was too valuable to damage and risk not making it to the Ice Nation. Any restraint had to be done through drugging, not assault._

 _Now that there were more Skaikru here? Nia smirked, thinking. This worked into an idea. The Skaikru were now hostages. As soon as Nia sent her warriors out to retrieve them, they would be her hostages. If Wanheda wished to spare her people a slow and agonizing death, she would bow._

 _As for the rest of Nia's plans? This couldn't have worked out more perfectly for Nia, even if she had come up with it herself. Ontari, a natblida, being under her control was already a great asset. But to have Wanheda under her control as well? With both a natblida and Wanheda in the palms of her hands, the rest of the tribes would question who was more worthy to serve. She already knew the perfect ruse to lure Roan to her side. The promise of restoring his place in her family and as heir to the throne, so long as he killed who she told him to kill. And when he was finished removing Leksa's head from her shoulders, not to mention the head of Titus, Onya and all of Leksa's generals from their shoulders, Nia would have her daughter kill Roan._

 _Nia turned to the throne next to her, to her left, staring in interest at Ontari, who looked back at her curiously. Ontari was swathed in smooth, black fur with a fur collar around the back of the coat. Her arms were resting on the stone arms of her throne. Ontari's dark brown eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Mother, what are you thinking?" Ontari asked. Nia smiled. If Wanheda did in fact bow, to protect these new Skaikru, she knew the perfect way to solidify Wanheda's place here, to make the rest of the tribes even more uncertain about who to follow._

 _And if all of this fell through? The tribes would follow Ontari and Wanheda. They would follow her. They'd follow Nia. And with all the tribes' backing, Nia would wipe out all the villages that defied her. The Sowlas. The bandits, the other villages. The Milgreds. She would wipe out every last one of them who spoke her name in anything except praise and worship._

" _Ontari, my dear," Nia said, smiling wide, teeth flashing. "I believe you may find great benefits in Wanheda's presence. You have served me well, and one day you will take the throne." Ontari cocked her head, as if trying to understand what Nia was leading up to with this. There was a slight curve in her lips at her mother's acknowledgment of her loyalty._

 _Nia said, knowing that her daughter was trying to decipher what she was talking about, "And you will need support from the tribes. What better way to gain support from the tribes, by being wed to the Commander of Death herself?" Nia watched Ontari freeze on her seat, her eyes widening. She was to be married? To Wanheda? Nia chuckled at her daughter's astounded look. "I know it might seem strange and troubling now. But daughter, you will be queen, and when all our plans succeed, you will be Heda. You will have full control over the tribes. And Wanheda, the dreaded Commander of Death herself shall be your Hedatu. No one will dare speak a word against you."_

 _Ontari tensed. She unfortunately understood her mother's line of thinking too well. It was quite brilliant. Who would dare protest against the Commander of Death and the one Natblida left to take the Commander's throne, after the current Commander and all her Natblidas were killed off?_

 _The answer was a horrible, grim one. No one would dare. Any resistance would be quashed and painfully hunted down to the ends of the different tribal lands. Any assassins would be tortured to death within only days of being captured._

 _Ontari, coming to her decision quickly, knew she could not speak a word to refuse her mother. If she did, her mother would ask questions. She bowed her head. "Ain, kosena. I accept." As if she ever had a choice to begin with. She knew better than to think she did. Her fate had been sealed as soon as the queen had discovered her as a nightblood that day years ago in her blood mother and blood father's farm. "I will marry her as you command." She lifted her head, keeping her expression as calm and in control as always, just as Nia and Hasenjo had taught her for years after stealing her from her home. "Are there any orders you need fulfilled for this particular task?"_

 _Nia snickered, shaking her head. "No. I suspect the Commander and her general already did those parts of any task I might have had before, for me. They destroyed Wanheda's trust when they left her people to die. Klark kom Skaikru already doesn't trust them, most likely." The queen's grin turned more and more sly. "Which means that she will be willing to join me. And with these new Skaikru? Well, now we have all the reasons Klark could want to join us."_

 _Ontari nodded, saying nothing else. Wanheda-Klark, now she was a part of her mother's plans. As the woman who had once been Heda and Heda's general's lover, and being the Commander of Death, she was now considered an invaluable boon in her mother's eyes. A new puppet to use at her disposal._

 _Ontari's teeth tightened. The Sky girl had been through enough from the things she had heard. Thrown away by the two women she thought loved her and her people abandoned to die and being saddled with the deaths of all in the mountain. And now she was going to be the subject of the ambitious Ice Queen's devices. Ontari stared at her mother as Nia turned back to the rest of the people in the room. Ontari wanted no more harm to come to this girl who had fought the Trikru bravely and had freed their people from the Mountain Men._

 _But if Wanheda really did side with the queen and saw reason in what Nia said. Then Ontari knew she would have to use any means to keep Klark from becoming a new possible threat to her people. Even if it meant killing Wanheda._

 _A sneering, disgusted voice shot out from the side of the hall, on the lowest stand of onlookers. "Your majesty, with all due respect, you must not truly be bringing Wanheda into our nation! She is an outsider! Of the sky! She is weak!"_

 _Ontari tried not to snort. She knew that voice. Tallor. Sniveling little man, incapable of fighting his own battles. Always bringing news of people who had spoken against the queen and watched as those that committed the "crime" were maimed or killed. And all for the sake of gold. And he hated anyone who wasn't of Nia's immediate army and community. He spoke of nothing but disgust for any who hadn't bowed to the queen, in excess. Ontari's blood boiled at some of the horrifying things he said about the Sowlas and the other dark-skinned villagers that lived outside of the kingdom._

 _But of course, there was one rule in maintaining the act of being a good soldier and working with a rebellion. And that was pretending that you were more than happy to hear these vile words. Or that you would tolerate them without wanting to kill the ones who said those words._

 _It was one of those things that made Ontari almost loathe the queen for forcing her into this life, if Ontari didn't love her as her mother._

" _I don't think I was asking what you thought of it, Tallor." The queen sneered back, looking at the crowd of people who were now dispersing to move away from the tall, thin man that was voicing his low opinion of the Skaikru. "Wanheda may be Skaikru," The queen continued, staring coldly at the thin man who showed no visible sign of fear at this attention. "But she has proven to be a great danger. She wiped out the Mountain Men. She cured the Ripas. Every last Mountain Man is now dead. And she killed three hundred Trikru warriors with fire. You call that weak, Tallor?"_

 _Tallor scoffed, coming forward and Ontari knew instantly that she now had a way of excusing any violence she may use against Tallor. Tallor's confidence in how "valuable" he was to the queen had gotten to his head, obviously. He approached the queen without permission when he was merely a commoner and he blatantly showed disrespect to his queen when he scoffed at her. Another step out of line and he would be setting himself up to get his tongue cut out._

 _Ontari fought a small smirk._

 _The slim, salt and pepper haired man with a thin, dark tunic confronted the queen in front of the steps. It was only because of the lit fireplace and the burning coals that he could dress that lightly. His furs were over by the stand with the rest of the crowd's seats. He stepped forward again, looking straight at the queen with conviction._

" _My kwin," He said in an impassioned voice, "Take my words as advice, the Sky people cannot be trusted. Even if Wanheda is the strongest of her people, she will be the doom to our great tribe. Our tribe has been strong and without weakness for years. The Sowlas, and all like them have left us for us to flourish in strength. Their weak gods and spirits are only reminders now. Why should we accept someone wasn't even born here as another queen? Why should the princess not be wed to one of her own?"_

 _Ontari allowed a reaction now, aware that it was well deserved. She threw her head back and cackled, startling her mother and Tallor and probably many others in the room. With many eyes on her, Ontari looked down at Tallor, grinning viciously. "Tallor, you're almost making it sound like you would suggest yourself to be my eventual entarg."_

 _As soon as Ontari said that, the room became silent and this time, Tallor paled, showing he did in fact understand his mistake. "Forgive me, princess." Tallor bowed his head and Ontari noticed with satisfaction how his legs shook a little. "I would never suggest one as lowly as me have such an honor. No, I swear I did not mean that. I meant that as the heir to the Ice Nation, only one as worthy as a great Azgeda general would suit you."_

 _Ontari scowled at the tradesman, a bad taste in her mouth over the thought of him thinking he knew what was best for her. Many all too loyal to the queen were a zealous bunch. When they got it in their heads that they knew what was right for the royal family, they tended to step out of line. The queen laughed next to Ontari, catching the princess's attention._

" _And Wanheda is all of those things, except for native to this land. So she is not born Azgeda." The queen smirked, "But she is a great warrior and leader, and she destroyed our greatest enemy, all in one swoop. That is not worthy of my daughter's hand, Tallor?" The queen had that edge in her voice that, though smooth, hinted that Tallor was heading in dangerous territory._

 _Tallor's lower jaw tightened as a sign that he knew he was losing this fight. Ontari smirked now, hoping he'd leave. Her hopes, however, were not meant to see the light of day, as Tallor, despite now visibly shaking, swallowed and stepped forward yet again, this time only inches from the first step leading up to the throne. Ontari narrowed her eyes at the audacity of the man. Her left hand began to travel to the left side of her throne where her short ax was strapped._

 _Tallor's voice did not betray how frightened he was. No, his body did that for him. But his voice came out strong. "Forgive me please, your majesty. But the Sky wretch is still of the sky. We've heard the stories about these Sky people. They lured the Trikru to the bridge in their territory, only to start shooting at them with their guns. It was a trap. And they set three hundred warriors ablaze. They will be the doom of our tribe. To even let one of the weakest ones let alone Wanheda, the Destroyer near your throne, your majesty, is-"_

" _What did you say, Tallor?" Ontari spat, grabbing the handle of her ax and stood up, sliding the ax out from the leather strap hanging from the arm of her throne. When she stood up, her ax more than visible, there were gasps around her. Now Tallor was frozen to his spot, standing on the floor. His eyes widened. Ontari could almost hear the ice starting to grow in his blood._

" _You dare question my mother's decisions." Ontari said, starting to walk down the steps. Though he was a vile bigot, he might have been useful in keeping anyone from thinking bringing Wanheda here was a good idea. That would be_ _if_ _Ontari didn't know Nia. She did. She knew her mother would not listen to a commoner. Not an innkeeper. Not a man who had never lifted a weapon in his life outside of a few butcher knives to fend off thieves from his inn._

 _Ontari stepped down the stairs again, now on the floor, only a foot away from Tallor. Genow had backed away, just feeling the danger. Even without the ax, the danger in the room was palpable._

 _Ontari knew her mother. Nia would not listen to anyone, not even to her daughter that bringing Wanheda here was a bad idea. Ontari's reasons would be quite different from the reasons she'd give her mother, but she knew her mother wouldn't listen either way. So that meant that Tallor was just wasting their time by speaking his foul words. Ontari had enough of him wasting time, space and her sanity._

" _You question the queen?" Ontari spat, taking another step. She brought her left arm through the air, readying the ax._

 _Tallor gasped, backing up, somehow growing paler by the second. "Princess Ontari, forgive, I only meant that it would dishonor you for you to marry a Sky girl. Even if it_ _is_ _Wanheda." Ontari's jaw tightened and that was the only way she could fight her grin in satisfaction at the opportunity his foolish words were giving her. Tallor had just lit his own funeral pyre. He had said something very stupid just now._

" _So you are saying that my mother," Ontari spat, "wishes to dishonor me."_

 _The look of terror on Tallor's face didn't even touch Ontari's cold heart with pity. Ontari swung her ax forward, fast. The curved blade of the ax instantly made contact with the man trying to move out of the way. The width of the blade made its impact. The blade sliced through the right side of the terrified Tallor's head, skin slicing open. The blade slammed into bone, gouging into Tallor's skull. The curved blade made its way with Ontari's speed in her arm, cutting through the bone, slicing into Tallor's brain._

 _The ax was halted in its momentum with how it lodged in the middle of Tallor's now decimated head. The gasps and cries around the throne room were almost deafening, but Ontari kept her eyes only on the ax frozen in Tallor's brain, the dark blood spilling and down the man's face and body like a scarlet waterfall, and the light slowly leaving those usually arrogant blue eyes._

 _She grinned, watching his body freeze up and slowly collapse. She didn't let go of the handle of the ax. She held tightly onto it and pulled it from the meat and bone sheathe._

 _Tallor's lifeless body dropped and the ax came loose from his skull, the angle and the placement of the blade ripping the top half of Tallor's skull halfway off, blood pouring out onto the smooth, white floor, Tallor's slashed open brain exposed to anyone who looked._

 _Ontari didn't even note the cries around her. She brought the ax up again and brought it down upon Tallor's ribcage, cutting down hard. Blood shot out of his chest. Bones cracked and snapped. Ontari yanked the ax out, blood flying out and hitting her already dark clothing. She did the same to Tallor's stomach and pulled the ax out, getting more splashes of blood on her. There was a sickening slapping noise of the organs spilling out. Tallor's right lung and his whole stomach organ dropped out, slapping down in bloody heaps on the floor next to the man's corpse._

 _Ontari finally took a step back when she was satisfied with seeing the inside of Tallor's ribcage, noticing the second lung and the smooth, dark pink flesh of the no longer beating heart in the glistening, red, meaty chamber of Tallor's upper torso._

 _Ontari heard utter silence and she could almost feel the fear in the room. She slowly turned around, knowing that the first person she needed to answer to-the only person she needed to answer to, was her mother, the Ice Queen. She faced her mother slowly, gauging the cold, curious appearance of her mother._

 _Right side of her body now more or less covered in drying, dark blood, Ontari spoke before her mother could demand answers. "He was speaking ill of you, mother. He dared to defy your commands. He thought he knew better than you. He will never be able to show such disrespect to you again." Nia stared at her adopted child. After many seconds of tense, skin crawling silence, the queen began to shake in her throne, chuckling. She grinned. "So he did. And you made quite a mess of him for his words, my dear."_

 _Ontari raised her head and smiled calmly. "No more than you would, my kwin." This only brought more chuckles from the older woman. Nia got up off the throne and began walking down the steps. A she did, Ontari went down to her knee, bowing her head, ignoring the warm liquid staining her fur pants that she felt press against all of her leg._

 _It wasn't like it was the first time she had been covered in blood._

" _I ask your forgiveness, mother," Ontari said, knowing how to maintain a good mask. "I should not have raised my weapon without your order to do it. I will proudly accept any punishment you wish to give me, my kwin."_

 _Nia snorted. "Rise, daughter. Rise." Ontari lifted her head and began to stand up fully, some relief touching her, recognizing that there would be no punishment. Ontari had received plenty of punishments in her years as Nia's daughter. For crying for her blood mother and blood father. For begging to be allowed to go back to her mother and father's home. For crying when Nia had made her kill her first ten men when she had only been eleven._

 _Ontari remembered every punishment and she knew what she could take. The whippings had been nothing. After a while, anyway. The continual stabbing into the same wound over and over again that she had received when she had been thirteen for not killing a baby had been almost unbearable at the time, but she knew she could bear it now. The breaking of her bones over and over again for not burning a whole village alive when she had been twelve had been yet another thing that she had learned to tolerate. She would take any punishment if it maintained the lie and helped the warriors in the rebellion stay hidden._

 _But hearing that she would not have any of these punishments unleashed upon her person was more of a relief than she'd like to admit._

 _Nia stepped closer to her nightblood heir and reached out with her right hand, fingers cupping Ontari's chin. She spoke in a proud voice, a satisfied smile on her face. "Ontari, my dear, loyal daughter. You will be rewarded for all your loyalty and service. You will have the Heda's throne. And Wanheda as your wife." Nia released her daughter's chin. She stepped back, still smiling. "When you are Heda, all tribes will tremble at your feet." Nia turned her head to survey all the shocked and terrified, silent onlookers._

" _No pity is to be given to Tallor. He was weak and did not know his place. Just one less informant. I can always get more. Now then," The queen looked at Ontari and spoke more softly, "I must speak with Hasenjo to plan for these new Skaikru's arrival here." She added, smirking, "And the arrival of your soon to be wife. Ontari showed no emotions, only bowed her head. Nia walked past Ontari, mumbling to someone, "Have someone clean this mess up, dear."_

 _Ontari nodded. "Ain, mother." She answered._

 _When Nia walked to Genow, Ontari told the frozen, frightened looking man coldly in Azgedasleng, "Bring the Heaver. We need to bring Klark kom Skaikru proof that these people are truly Skaikru. And she will know they are when she sees their ship. You will bring me the ship and we will place it on the hill outside. Klark will see it if she needs any proof that these prisoners are Skaikru. Get the Heaver. That's an order."_

 _Genow broke out of his mortified state and bowed his head. "Ain, my kwin." He answered and scurried out of the hall. Ontari watched the grotesquely pitiful scene with no amusement. The heaver was a massive wooden and bone cart that had been first made when the queen had a mass village destroyed and all the bodies dropped into a mass grave, uncaring if she was trapping their souls or not._

 _The heaver, it seemed would be used now for a no less grim task, as having Klark kom Skaikru in their power would lead Queen Nia's plans further into succeeding, ending countless lives._

 _Ontari watched her mother leave and she turned towards the stunned crowd. She briefly caught the only unsurprised faces in the crowds. Those that she was allied with. Those that were part of the group slowly gaining power right in the queen's mists and had no idea. The same people who eventually planned to be queen Nia's end and the end of all who were loyal to her. She recognized Jaxo, Hakel, Rot, Zetra and Moren. As long as they kept themselves hidden behind an obedient mask, no one would suspect._

 _Ontari turned on the two closest guards. She recognized them as loyal warriors to Nia. Good. They were worthy of cleaning up the filth that had once been Tallor. "Clean this worthless heap up." Ontari ordered the two guards, Saktar and Mathias coldly. "Now!"_

 _Both large men were startled and nodded, bowing at the waists and went to clean up the destroyed body of Tallor. The blood would take more than at least ten or fifteen swipes over with cloths drenched in soap water, but it would eventually be wiped away. Like Ontari, it wasn't the first time the floor had been covered in blood._

 _Ontari, her side and the fur on her right shoulder stained with dark blood, coldly kept her eyes on the throne and gave the stunned warriors at the throne a dark look, making them cringe back in fear._

 _She could spend the rest of her life being resentful towards Nia for subjecting her to this life. It wouldn't matter. What mattered was remembering what she had to do to save her people from Nia's madness. And if saving her people involved killing Wanheda too, then Ontari would do it, even if Wanheda_ _had_ _saved them from the Mountain Men._

 _It would be only almost two months before Ontari came to realize that she could never hurt Klark kom Skaikru._

 **Author's note**

 **So yet another awkward and clumsy chapter. Man, this one was clumsy as heck. Ooph, hopefully now I can move the plot along. Brain, move the plot.**

 **So no shocks about Ontari's action at the end of this chapter, I hope. She's the princess of the Azgeda. Did you think she'd get this far just by being a nightblood? She had to have at least a few rivers of blood on her to get as much respect from the queen as she has. She isn't all fuzziness and warmness.**

 **And on the Sowlas thing, when it comes to the race issue, I was hoping to make how I felt about the white privilege thing that Rothenberg loves to abuse so much very clear. No, Octavia** _ **doesn't**_ **have the right to be the Commander. She was not born a Grounder, didn't earn it. Isn't a nightblood. By their own rules, Octavia could never have been the Commander. But because Rothenberg has a boner for the whole white savior thing, he placed Octavia on the throne.**

 **This is where Cody comes in. She is to be the speaker for the Sowlas. Clarke recognizes that she has no place speaking for them to the queen or speaking on her group's behalf to the Sowlas. It would be like a white person being at the head of protest for African-American rights. Clarke's doing the smart thing and is going to request Cody, someone who shares close heritage with the Sowlas, speak on their resistances' behalf. It's already a very sticky area, asking the Sowlas, the darker-skinned people to address the queen-a white woman as the ruler, if only for appearances sake.**

 **Clarke is at least doing it the smart way and trying, _trying_ to be respectful by asking Cody to represent them, knowing that Cody is the only one of them with that right. **

**I'll give you a guess which idiotic character wouldn't have had the foresight to have done that because she's such a selfish self-righteous character. Her name starts with an "O."**

 **Oh yeah, and this whole "All tribes worship the same deity" bullshit in the third season was some complete racist shit. As if that season didn't stink enough.**


	22. The Beginning: Strange Mothers

**So the last chapter was really messy. Eye twitches. Next chapter.**

 **Ro:** **That's right. This is one of the many reasons why I can't stand Bellarkers at all. If Bellamy had been fat, or in any way deemed unattractive by society's standards, then we all know they wouldn't be interested in him at all. Wouldn't care if he was a love interest. Might even be against it. And they wouldn't care if he died or was a criminal or not. But he most definitely is. And that makes Bellarkers not just creepy and basically sociopathic, it makes them incredibly shallow. And thank you for the comment about Ontari. I always was disappointed in her character in the show. Wanted her to be more complex.**

 **Skullgamerscy:** **Sorry about the delay. Here you go.**

 **I have another question for you Bellarkers, what if Bellboy was black? Or a woman? Or both? Or black and identified as a woman? Or a transwoman? Would you still be defending him? Don't bother answering that.**

 **I already know the answer.**

 **As far as I'm concerned? Pike has a lower body count than Bellboy does. Last time I checked, Pike didn't throw a radio into a river and kill 150 people on the Ark, all to save his own life. And I genuinely don't know how many of those 300 people he killed in their sleep. We all know Bellamy is capable of killing hundreds of people all for revenge or saving his own skin. So you know, it might have all been him. Pike sounds pretty innocent next to Bellboy. Like I keep saying to any Bellamy fans and Bellarkers, let me know when those letters to real life serial killers are updated. I'm sure you've already sent thousands to well-known, real life serial killers, hoping your beloved attractive, toxic males will pay you the attention you're willing to sacrifice other women's confidence, happiness and lives for. Like I keep saying, don't trust Bellboy fans or Bellarkers. They do not care about women's lives or sanity.**

 **No, seriously, Pike looks pretty damn innocent next to Bellamy.**

 **Bellboy fans are not capable of seeing women as human beings. They aren't capable of seeing women-regardless of sexuality, race, or gender as human beings. They're no different from Mormon women who indoctrinate other women into being completely submissive and objectified by men. Or women that latch onto Republican men all to satisfy their own selfishness.**

 **Anyone who is biologically a woman or anyone who identify as a woman in anyway, Bellarkers just can't see them as human beings, no different from misogynistic, abusive, cis men. And are incapable of understanding that white and lighter skinned men aren't entitled to women. The only thing that Bellarkers think women are, are prizes for white and lighter skinned cis to fuck and abuse. They can't see them as anything else.**

 **Trigger warnings for threats of violence and torture, and mentions of cannibalism**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 22: The Beginning: Strange Mothers:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

After almost everyone had gone off to bed, there was still the matter of where Farron was to sleep. Mario volunteered sleepily. Clarke smiled gratefully. She hugged Cody close, earning a startled look in question. Clarke didn't say a word after that, knowing that what she had to say to the younger at some point would take a lot more than just a few words that could be spoken in late at night before bedtime. She watched Cody take off to bed, knowing she was going to ask the younger too much. It weighed on her. But it would weigh so much worse on Cody. When Cody's door closed, Mario reached out and Farron hugged Clarke close, looking up at her and Ontari pleadingly. Clarke sighed sadly. The boy obviously didn't want to be separated from them tonight.

She leaned down and hugged Farron closer. "It'll be okay, sweetheart. Ontari and I, we need some time together. Tomorrow, before Emerson's execution, we'll talk. Okay?" Farron frowned, but nodded. Clarke smiled, a little guilty. She had spent time with Farron a great deal these last few days. But after whenever they received the letter from Razeeta in response to their letter, given where the Milgreds' territory was, it would be a while before they saw each other again. It was nearly a four day journey from hear to the Milgreds' territory. Under that of course, since they found actual working small terrain vehicles in the bunker where they found the weapons. It had taken a while, but some of them, Clarke included, knew how to drive them. And it didn't take long to find the well-kept gasoline used to power those terrain machines. But it was still going to be a few days journey from here to the Milgreds' territory. And Farron had just heard that she was going to the territory of the Milgreds.

It would be hard for him. And she knew that. But Farron would be safe with his siblings. They would protect him from Tenmar and any of the queen's most loyal subjects. She leaned down and hugged Farron one last time for tonight. She parted from him and kissed his forehead. Farron eventually, looking a little forlorn, walked over to Mario, who led him to his room. He ruffled the boy's black hair and led him to his room. When Mario's door closed and everyone else said their goodnights, Clarke turned to Ontari, taking her lover's hand and leading her to the steps leading down. To Ontari's room. Ontari smirked as they went down.

Clarke peered up, seeing shadows along the walls upstairs in the hall. The servants were putting out the fires in the room and likely replacing the coals with new ones and trying to start up a new fire. She called up loudly, "Sehena! Sehena!" There was a quiet gasp and footsteps. Then a figure appeared leaning over the balcony of the hall above. Sehena looked down at the stairs where Clarke and Ontari stood, black hair hanging over. She looked worried for a second. "Princess Ontari! Wanheda, forgive me-" She began before Clarke quietly answered, "It's alright. You did nothing wrong. Why are you apologizing? I will be spending the night in Ontari's chambers. There's no need for you to see to my room and start the fire or spark any coals. You can go and rest now if you want."

Sehena looked alarmed and nodded. "Are you sure, Wanheda? Princess?" She looked from Clarke to Ontari. Clarke nodded, smiling. "Ain, it's good. Thank you. Ontari and I will see to Ontari's room and light the fire ourselves." Ontari confirmed Clarke's words. "Ain, you may take your leave, Sehena. Atteren." Sehena bowed her head as much as she could. "Atteren, Princess Ontari. Wanheda." Sehena disappeared from the balcony, most likely to clean up the rest of the ashes from Clarke's room.

Clarke turned to Ontari and they headed down to Ontari's room. If it had been the queen in the room, Sehena would be by far less calm. She had gotten used to Ontari's calmer and less cruder nature and Clarke's kindness. So she wasn't surprised by their lack of scrutiny to how much work she put into Ontari's room. And she was quite aware that they looked after their own rooms when they could, to which Ontari and Clarke both insisted on.

They reached Ontari's room, entering the room and locking it behind them. They were immediately hit with how cold it was. Ontari and Clarke went to the coals and the fireplace instantly, grabbing the matches on the mantle and on the shelves above the ravines of coals. Ontari lit matches and started up the fire below the newly placed coals and the bits of straw underneath the length of all the coals. Gradually the rest of the coals along the ravine were lit up, warming the room up. Clarke had set the hay below the wood in the fireplace on fire and was poking at it with the iron fireplace tools, making sure the fire took.

When the fire started building, Clarke put the poker back into its metal kit, grabbing the metal gate of the fireplace and putting it in front of the fire. She backed away from the fireplace, turning to Ontari who was lighting the coals inside the stone bowls on top of the pedestals.

It took a while, but only after three or so minutes, the room began to heat up. Besides, Clarke and Ontari had their own way of keeping warm. After she was done, Ontari put the matches on the shelf above the ravines, right next to the door.

Clarke looked over at Ontari, chest warm. Despite what she realized she would have to inevitably ask Cody, if they wanted the Sowlas' help in the coming battle, Clarke found a certain amount of peace in what she had gone through in the past week or so. She belonged here. With Ontari. Clarke watched the black-haired Azgeda heir finish up lighting everything. She belonged with Ontari. With her family. It must have meant that some part of her was broken to feel as whole as she did here with people like the Azgeda. Clarke could acknowledge that. But she knew that she wouldn't have it any other way.

Ontari said, voice low and strained, "Clarke, I can't press how much I don't want you to go to the Milgreds." Clarke nodded, feeling her chest hurt at Ontari's fear. She hated what she was putting Ontari through. But this was what had to be done if they wanted a chance at this rebellion working. Clarke answered dryly, "And I can't press how much I don't want to go into a territory with cannibals in it. But if we want this to work, Ontari? We need all the help we can get."

Ontari nodded, closing her eyes for a moment in contemplation, before opening her eyes again and taking a step forward. Her voice was weak as she spoke to her lover. "Klark, the way Razeeta and her lover looked at you when they let you go…I don't know. I just don't like that Razeeta has an interest in you."

Clarke gave a small laugh, understanding completely. This was why she had been hesitant to tell Ontari about the letter she had gotten from Razeeta four days ago. The letter mentioning her marriage coming up to wed Dasha and Jorsua. Razeeta's two lovers. One of them Clarke knew better than the other, Jorsua. Jorsua, like Razeeta, had shown an obvious interest in her. Dasha had not been present for most of her time there. Women who enjoyed eating people had an interest in her. Of course that was disturbing. That would be disturbing to just about anyone.

"You think I like it?" Clarke asked, shrugging. "I was the one that just barely got out of her clutches. I don't think she'll hurt me. I don't think hurting me was ever her intention." Clarke thought about her interaction with Jorsua and Razeeta, the whole time she was in the Milgreds' territory. Razeeta and her lovers had never shown a desire to hurt her or feed on her. There had been interest in Clarke, yes, but Clarke had never gotten the impression that it revolved around the desire to kill and consume her. If Razeeta hid it? Well, then she hid it excellently.

And if Razeeta intended to eat her after she returned to the Milgreds' territory, it seemed rather counterproductive, didn't it? Why eat her after letting her go? After having few full weeks alone with her potential prey? It didn't make any sense.

But then there was the final few days they were together. The way Razeeta and Jorsua had reacted when Clarke told her about how her father died and who it was that had betrayed him...it left questions in her mind if the two women could really act that well or if all their reactions were really genuine, which they seemed to be. The anger in Razeeta's blue eyes, the clenched knuckles, the way Jorsua growled the word, "cowards" in her tongue under her breath when she learned that Abby and Thelonius had killed Clarke's father...it had all looked so real. Sure, Clarke had learned to be distrustful of Grounders since Lexa and Anya, but there just seemed something intense about the way Razeeta reacted. Ever since they first met, Clarke had a strange sense that Razeeta wouldn't hurt her. Even after realizing who Razeeta was when she saw what was on the fire in Razeeta's lair, she had a strange sense that Razeeta, Jorsua and Dasha wouldn't hurt her. The moment one of Razeeta's guards tried to even lay a hand on Clarke, Razeeta had threatened to kill and eat them if they did.

And the way Jorsua had looked at that guard told Clarke instantly that that man was in danger anyway. Jorsua had been so visually protective of Clarke, that Clarke really had to wonder.

So Clarke had a feeling she was slightly justified in being more than a little confused by the Milgred queen and her lovers' intentions.

When Clarke had been with Razeeta and Jorsua, they had had conversations that Clarke never thought she'd have with someone who committed cannibalism. Clarke had somehow felt at ease around the two women, and even Dasha when the third had shown up occasionally. They had found themselves talking about all sorts of subjects. From morals about Razeeta and her people doing what they were doing, to philosophy-what made a human more superior than an animal and if a human really was superior, to history, to different religions, to literature and music-the last subject Razeeta loved more than any other subject.

Jorsua had a fondness for literature. She had been very happy when Clarke recognized some of the titles of the books that Jorsua had read. Given those books were from another era, before any Grounder culture, there were many things that Jorsua didn't understand in the books, but much to Clarke's interest and intrigue, Jorsua was captivated by the narratives of the stories, no matter what most of the context of the story was and if it wasn't what Jorsua quite understood.

Clarke had originally had conversations with Razeeta about morality and philosophy, to try to understand why anyone would eat another person. But as the days went by, while Ontari and her group had been sent out by the queen to retrieve Wanheda from the Milgreds' territory, Clarke found that she had enjoyed the talks and Razeeta and Jorsua's company more and more. It had made her feel safe. Was it disturbing that a couple of cannibals' presences made Clarke feel safe? Yes, probably. But that was what happened.

It made her uneasy knowing that the Milgreds' queen and her lovers were interested in her, yes. And that she found some interest in the older women in return. But it also meant she had a reason to go back and speak with her. Potentially make allies. Of course, making allies was only part of the reason, wasn't it? There was a lot more to it than that.

"What do you think she wants from you, Klark?" Ontari asked, and Clarke was sure she detected some nervousness in her lover's tone. Clarke shook her head. "I don't know." At first, she had entertained the possibility of the queen and her lovers desiring her in some way. Maybe Razeeta hadn't wished to kill and eat her. Or use her as a puppet as Nia intended to use her. But instead wished to have her as a lover. But Clarke had quickly thrown away that thought the more she saw specifically the way it was Jorsua and Razeeta looked at her.

It wasn't a look of desire or lust. Clarke knew what lust and desire looked like. Even before Finn, she had come to recognize the looks she'd receive on the Ark as she got older. Looks of want from boys and sometimes girls too on the Ark. She had never told Wells, not unless she wanted his overprotective big brother instincts to kick in and immediately try to pick a fight with some of the boys that looked at her. Wells would never hit a girl, but he'd get into trouble if she told him about how the boys looked at her.

The boys in the 100 when she and the rest of the delinquents first came down hadn't been much better. Finn had been one. Murphy used to look at her the same way. Dax and Connor had too. Call her crazy, but she could have sworn there were a few times that Zoe Monroe and Raven had looked at her like that too. Jasper occasionally had before coming to see her as an older sister. Clarke's jaw tightened and her stomach fell, thinking about Jasper. She had certainly destroyed any reassurance to the boy that she would protect him, hadn't she?

"Klark?" Ontari asked, worried. Clarke shook her head, smiling. "It's nothing." She lied.

She was sure that Ontari could detect the lie, but thankfully, Ontari said nothing on it.

Clarke ignored the painful, overwhelming guilt of Jasper's death and Monty's grief, thinking more, the pain in her chest not subsiding anytime soon. As for Lexa and Anya? Well, they might not have loved her. But she had recognized their desires nonetheless. Some Azgeda looked at her that way before quickly averting their attentions away, afraid of either the wrath of the queen, Ontari or Wanheda. Or all three.

Clarke shook her head again. "The Milgred queen isn't interested in me like that, Ontari." Ontari smirked and said, "Well, maybe _she_ isn't. But we both know Eko is." Clarke smiled, sighing. Well, Ontari had her there.

Echo, the Milgred Queen's closest guard. Yes, Echo desired her. Echo had been one of the Azgeda captured by the Mountain Men. As a way of making sure that the Ice Queen didn't wipe the Milgreds out, Razeeta sent some aide with Nia's troops to Polis. Echo had been one of them. Echo had been captured and thrown into a cage in the mountain. Apparently Bellamy had met her. Echo had been amongst the many Grounders that had been freed with Lexa's treachery.

Clarke met Echo in the Milgred territory after she had been captured by their guards. If there was anyone Ontari needed to worry about when it came to someone in the Milgred lands being sexually attracted to Clarke, then Echo was the person. So Clarke knew to recognize such desire in Echo.

Clarke knew that when she went to visit the Milgred lands and Queen Razeeta, Echo was going to be more than happy to flirt with her. She had last time, after all.

And Ontari? Well, Clarke knew very well what Ontari's desire looked like.

But the point was that Clarke knew how to recognize lust and desire.

That wasn't what Razeeta, Jorsua or Dasha felt for her. Not even a little. She was sure of it. That wasn't what was going on here.

Besides, the way Razeeta had spoken of her lovers, Jorsua and Dasha, there had been too much affection, devotion and feeling in her voice for her to think of anything else. And Jorsua in turn showed too much tenderness for her queen for it to be fake. And if one of them or both of them were lying? Well, either Razeeta, Jorsua and Dasha had a very complex relationship or Razeeta and Jorsua were very good at lying.

When Clarke had left with Ontari and the others last time, Razeeta and Jorsua had watched her go with unrestrained sadness in their eyes. There had been affection. But nothing like what Clarke had seen in the past in terms of wanting Clarke in the way Clarke's lovers had.

Clarke wasn't sure what, but that wasn't it.

She had an idea. But she was going to wisely not say it. Not to Ontari or anyone. She had a feeling they wouldn't like it. And she wasn't going to mention either that she enjoyed the thought. When Clarke had been in the Milgreds' territory and she had talked about Abby in front of Razeeta and Jorsua, she had recognized a glint of jealousy in the cannibal queen's eyes. And Jorsua had looked somewhat like a bull that wanted to charge when she heard Abby's name. It had been just a flash in Razeeta, unlike Jorsua, but Clarke recognized it nonetheless. It made her wonder about Razeeta. And about Jorsua's anger. The thought of Razeeta being somewhat jealous of Abby Griffin left a troubled possibility in Clarke's mind. Or at least, it had been troubling at one time, but wasn't to her any longer.

What had once made her very nervous was just how _safe_ she had felt when Razeeta held her or touched her hair, or when Jorsua would do something out of protectiveness. When Razeeta had offered to let her and the twenty-six stay with the Milgreds, she had almost been tempted. Clarke hadn't understood why she had been so willing to think about it originally, but after a few days, she terrifyingly realized what it was that she felt like she was receiving from Jorsua and Razeeta. What she _had_ been receiving from the two older women. It was something she felt like she never really got from Abby Griffin. Not even back on the Ark, and certainly not here on Earth when Clarke was gaining power and didn't need to listen to Abby's authority anymore and seemed to be _disappointing_ Abby's expectations of her.

Maternal affection.

Clarke couldn't get the way Razeeta and Jorsua had looked on their last day together out of her head. The sadness in Razeeta's eyes before she covered it up to look cold and unfeeling in front of Ontari and Ontari's group, the hopeful look in the cannibal's eyes when she suggested that Clarke come back and visit her. It left too many questions and possibilities in Clarke's mind for her to feel entirely comfortable.

What made it even more unsettling was that Clarke could acknowledge now that she felt more supported by that woman in only a few weeks than she ever had felt with her own biological mother. When Clarke was doing exactly what Abby wanted her to do, then Abby was usually fine. But even when she was loving, Clarke would always feel a bitter aftertaste, like Abby was only showing such affection when Clarke did what she wanted. It was bitter. But when Clarke stopped listening to her mother, even if it was only a little? Her mom tended to pull out the underhanded remarks. Clarke was a good, loving, worthy daughter when she made Abby Griffin feel like a leader and obeyed Abby's every command like a sweet little pawn, but if not? That was when the venom was unleashed. Ton DC, Clarke understood. She had left a bunch of their own people and Grounders to die, all for the sake of winning a war. And Abby had felt betrayed. But everything before that? After the mountain when Clarke had come out with Monty, Charlotte, Wells, Lincoln, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Wick and the others?

The way Abby had looked at her had made Clarke's stomach turn. Sure, Abby's words of "maybe no one is the good guy" in the mountain had sounded accepting enough at the time, but Abby's words and the way she looked at the girl who was supposed to be her daughter were quite different from each other. Abby looked at her back at the camp after they got out of the mountain, like she didn't think Clarke was her daughter anymore.

That had just been yet another reason to leave.

Even before then, there had been things amiss. Abby's manipulations, her suggestions that Clarke wasn't her daughter for not obeying her or for making herself the leader instead of obeying Abby's authority.

What made Clarke wonder, without worry now, was when had Abby stopped being "mom" in her head and instead was just "Abby?" Clarke wondered how long it was now since she stopped thinking of Abby as "mom." Now that she thought about it, it had now been a good few months. Maybe it was six months ago when it started? Maybe even before that? Maybe it had been even before the mountain? And when had she started thinking of Razeeta and Jorsua as replacements? She knew though. It had been right around the second week she had been with the Milgreds. For some reason she had spilled her heart out to Razeeta and Jorsua about how Abby had made her feel when she made Clarke feel less wanted and loved all because she didn't obey Abby's words. Jorsua and Razeeta had watched with a neutral expression as Clarke started crying. Jorsua's anger as usual showed more obviously than Razeeta's had. Then the shocker came a second later. Razeeta had walked over and had taken Clarke into her arms. Jorsua had come over as well and placed a gentle hand on the back of Clarke's head and stroked her hair.

She had let a shocked Clarke cry against her till Clarke had fallen asleep. Clarke had woken up the next morning, on Razeeta's lap. Razeeta had been sitting on the floor with Clarke in her lap and of all things, Razeeta had been singing to her while she slept. Jorsua had been sitting on Razeeta's throne, reading and had only looked up, smiling warmly when Clarke had woken up. It had been surreal, to say the least. But that was what had happened.

And she'd always remember Razeeta's calm, knowledgeable words to her on the last day before she eventually fell asleep and Ontari and the others came for her. Sitting on her throne, looking calm and amused, a sad glint in her eyes, with Jorsua standing next to her, Razeeta had said, _"You give so much to a woman who gives nothing back. She murdered your father and threw you out of her home. She put you in danger in the first place. And wishes only to reap the benefits of all your work and suffering. Perhaps you should ask yourself if such a bond is worth giving up so much. And if this 'Abigail Griffin' has ever been truly a mother to you."_

The words had been haunting, but worse? Effective. Clarke had had to rethink everything she remembered about Abby. And everything she remembered told her that Razeeta was right. Everything Razeeta had said was right. Agreeing with a cannibal? She was positive there was something disturbing about that. But she couldn't say that Razeeta was wrong. She wasn't. Everything that Razeeta had said about Abby was right.

She wasn't sure about Razeeta and Jorsua's intentions back then, but she was now. Even without the letter, she was certain of their intentions now. Trying to get Clarke to see how toxic Clarke's relationship with Abby was, holding Clarke when she cried, singing to her, wanting her to come back…wanting her to come and see their wedding. Clarke wasn't sure she wasn't all too aware of Razeeta and Jorsua's feelings. And she was sure also that she returned them. There were all kinds of creepy implications with that. And she knew that.

She wasn't as frightened by the possibility as she had been at one time, but she knew that Ontari and everyone else wouldn't like what Clarke suspected on how Razeeta saw her, let alone how she saw Jorsua and Razeeta. So she would repeat her suspicions to no one but Ontari, till she Jorsua and Razeeta spoke again. She was sure that she should not utter her suspicions about the two Milgred women's feelings towards her, or her feelings towards Razeeta a secret for now until Ontari was less tense. But she knew she should inform Ontari of the letter she received from Razeeta. Knowing that Razeeta's marriage to Jorsua and Dasha was taking place in only eight days did somewhat make this possibility of making allies with the Milgreds more of a big thing. Because attending things like marriages, festivals, funerals, the births of heirs; those were incredibly important politically to show up to. For Nia and her kingdom to attend such an event would convince not just Razeeta and her to be wives, but to the entirety of the Milgreds that they were willing to extend the hand of negotiation to their estranged distant cousins.

It would unify Clarke and Ontari's army and the Milgreds. And there would be no loyalty that the Milgreds had with Nia's army. Because if Clarke played the cards right, then Razeeta's armies and people would be loyal to the rebellion only and Nia would never realize it till it was too late for her and her armies.

Ontari would need to see the letter. If Clarke wanted Ontari to start trusting Razeeta, then she wanted Ontari to see the letter. In the letter, Clarke was almost sure that Razeeta was showing affection. Clarke remembered how she felt when she had first read it. Again, that warmth that she hardly ever experienced around Abby filled her whenever she read it.

Clarke shook her head, speaking softly, "I don't know for sure what Razeeta wants specifically from me. I have an idea, but it's not to hurt me. But I'm sure that as long as I have people with me, she won't be able to hurt me." Ontari nodded, but didn't look convinced at all. Ontari flashed her dark eyes at Clarke and Clarke knew that Ontari needed to touch her. To hold her and feel her. Clarke sighed, heat stirring in her belly. She hadn't wanted to make Ontari this afraid for her. But of course, given where she was eventually going to go, it was inevitable.

Clarke walked over to Ontari, undoing the front of her jacket and pulling it off her person. Ontari looked at Clarke as soon as she did, smirking, interest on her face. Clarke put her jacket on the hook sticking out of the side of one of the lower shelves. She smirked at Ontari, reaching her arms out, gesturing with both hands to the other young woman to come closer to her. Ontari smoothly came over, pulling her own fur jacket off, tossing it onto the bed. She walked into Klark's arms, her own arms winding around Klark's abdomen, hugging her close. Klark kissed her throat, her hands suddenly gripping Ontari's shoulders, fingernails biting into Ontari's shoulders.

She knew that tonight had to be one of _those_ nights. They needed each other right now. And Clarke needed to put everything out of her mind for now. She needed to put out of her mind the Helrer-killing Emerson in the most inhumane way imaginable, the Milgreds and her feelings about Razeeta, she needed to put out of her mind Farron's terror for her safety, and she needed to put out of her mind the pain she felt at what she was going to ask Cody to do. The resentment and distrust she was sure she was going to receive from Cody as a result afterwards.

She needed to forget for tonight. Even if she didn't deserve to.

Ontari gasped at the feeling and pulled out of Klark's arms, hands still at the blonde's waist. She looked at her entarg with questions in her eyes. Klark didn't even need to say the words. Ontari could read them well enough in Klark's eyes. _I need you too,_ Klark's eyes said loud and clear. Ontari nodded, her throat going dry with need. In seconds, she had pulled Klark back into her arms hard and held her there, mouth going to Klark's throat, biting down hard. She heard Klark gasp, but when she felt Klark grind against her lower torso, she knew that Klark was in no way complaining.

Ontari held Klark by her hips and guided the other young woman to the edge of the bed, just between the bed and the shelves, slamming Klark against the wall. Ontari pulled back, mouth unlatching from Klark's neck, only to grab at Klark's shirt, pulling it up to uncover Klark's stomach and breasts. Ontari looked at Klark, watching her entarg pant with desire, eyes glazed over, right side of her throat already showing off the beginnings of a bruise. Ontari leaned down, cupping Klark's right breast and squeezing, mouth clasping over the blonde's hard nipple. Her teeth clamped around the hard disc and she carefully bit. She heard a sharp gasp above her and Ontari slid her right knee between Klark's legs, leg going up to grind against Klark's pelvis.

She heard a moan next and felt Klark buck against her. Ontari smirked around Klark's breast. Klark wasn't getting release that quickly. Ontari held Klark against the wall hard, she moved her mouth off of Klark's breast, mouth going again to Klark's throat, biting down more gently than before. Her right hand went to Klark's left breast, cupping it, thumb and index finger pinching Klark's nipple hard, making Klark whimper and squirm. Ontari grinded her pelvis against Klark's groin, getting another moan. Ontari pulled her mouth away from Klark's neck, descending to the breast she had just pinched. She violently pulled Klark's shirt down, Klark's left breast now hanging out. Ontari's mouth went over Klark's breast immediately, biting and sucking.

Klark shook and whimpered with tremors of pleasure. Ontari used her left hand to push down Klark's pants, the lower garments sliding down Klark's knees. Ontari's right hand left Klark's breast and lowered. It circled around Klark's right leg, nails biting into her leg, making the blonde gasp against her. Ontari scraped her nails against Klark's leg again, her fingers inches from Klark's sex. Ontari looked at Klark, sucking harder at Klark's breast. Klark gasped and she watched Ontari's pleading eyes.

Klark nodded, giving the other young woman permission. Two of Ontari's fingers slipped inside Klark's tight channel. Klark's head fell back against the wall, breath shortening. Ontari pulled her mouth from Klark's breast stretching her neck up, mouth clamping again over Klark's throat. She bit into Klark's neck and turned her fingers inside the blonde, spreading her fingers, clamping them over Klark's clit as they pulled out of Klark's sheathe. Klark cried out, bucking against Ontari wildly.

The heated stirring in Ontari's belly was undeniable. She growled into Klark's throat. She needed more. She opened up her mouth and pulled away. She then grabbed Klark's left arm with her right hand and pushed Klark over onto the bed, on Klark's side, making the blonde gasp, startled. Ontari removed her hand from Klark's groin, earning a disapproving grunt. Ontari smirked at Klark. "Please," The black-haired warrior chuckled, "As if I'd ever leave you unsatisfied." Ontari shifted down the bed, knees on the soft cover they had put on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees having a soft place to be. She leaned forward, head between Klark's legs. Ontari's right hand trailed up behind Klark's lower torso. She peered up at Klark, smiling seductively. "Klark," She practically purred and Klark quivered with need. She trailed her wet right index and middle finger close to the crack between Klark's ass cheeks.

"Oh." Klark said so quietly and quickly that neither of them were entirely sure that she had just spoken. Clarke stared down at Ontari, heat spreading through her body uncontrollably. So _that_ was what Ontari had in mind. It wasn't like Clarke hadn't had someone's fingers or tongue up there before. Lexa always was hesitant before asking permission and would almost timidly ask if she could do anything like that. Anya seemed to _love_ putting her tongue in there. Clarke had, after being absolutely sure that it was okay with both of them, had put her fingers there. For Anya it had been a mixed reaction. Lexa seemed to love it. And it wasn't like Ontari hadn't put her fingers in there before. It just meant that Ontari would need to immediately wash her hands again after that.

Clarke shivered and nodded to Ontari, pushing herself back against Ontari's fingers in emphasis. Ontari smirked, fingers parting Klark's ass and slipping one after the other into the tight ring of muscle. Klark tensed up, gasping, eyes closing. Ontari lowered her head and rested her cheek on Klark's left inner thigh, tongue slipping out and licking along the length of Klark's clit. Klark's loosened almost immediately as she thrashed and cried out. Her being less tense allowed Ontari to slip both fingers deeper into the blonde's ass. Ontari pulled her fingers back, then slammed them back in, mouth clasping over Klark's clit and sucking and licking it hard.

Klark's screams became shrieks and she thrashed on the bed, bucking uncontrollably. Ontari pulled her mouth away from Klark's cunt when she was sure that Klark was going to cum. Klark wasn't going to get release, just yet. She heard a whimper. "Ontari…."

Ontari only waited a few seconds before she dove back in, tongue lashing just against the opening of Klark's vagina, slipping around the opening. Klark's breath went rapid, grinding her hips against Ontari's mouth desperately, trying to increase friction.

Ontari's fingers pulled back, then plunged back in, making Klark gasp and buck her hips into Ontari's mouth. Ontari thrust her tongue deep into Klark's vagina, her left hand to Klark's cunt, fingers clasping Klark's clitoris and squeezing it, thumb rubbing against it.

Klark's screams were ripped from her throat. Ontari could feel Klark above her thrashing around, her body bucking wildly off the bed almost, and she could feel the blonde arching up off the bed.

She pulled her tongue out of Klark's hot, tight channel and released Klark's clit. She heard Klark's gasping whimper. "Please…."

Ontari chuckled, placing her left hand onto Klark's right leg, to keep her from thrashing around too much, spread her fingers inside Klark's rear and took a long gentle lick against Klark's opening, then up and down Klark's clit.

The thrashing increased, Klark almost pitching herself off of the bed, except Ontari's arm held her down. In the thrashing, Ontari's right set of fingers slipped deeper into Klark's tight hole, making the blonde gasp and whimper.

Clarke's vision was blinding white and she could feel her self about to be overcome, awash with the agonizing release.

Ontari flicked her fingers inside Klark harder. She then put her lips around the tip of Klark's clit and lashed her tongue against it hot and fast continually. Klark's ear piercing screams were cracking now. She wrenched herself up off the bed, back bending as if it were about to break at any moment.

Ontari's confirmation of Klark's climax and orgasm arrived when she felt the warm moisture against her chin pour out as Klark's legs tightened around her lover's head before they collapsed against the bed with the rest of the blonde, slumping, boneless against the furs.

Ontari smirked, mouth unlatching from Klark's clit and pulling her hand out of Klark's rear. She moved back, cocking her head at Klark, smirking, watching the blonde twitch and shake in the aftershocks. She was covered in a sheen of sweat and her blonde hair was wildly splayed across the pillows.

Ontari wanted nothing more than to touch Klark again, but she knew for now she had to wash her hand. She licked away at some of Klark's cum from her lips and chin, getting off the bed and going towards the washroom. She placed her hand into one of the large, wooden bowls of water and dropped the soap herbs in with the lump of animal fat. She washed her hand thoroughly. After both her hands were clean, she grabbed one of the furs next to the bowls and dried her hands off. She picked up the wooden bowl and dumped its contents into the wooden barrel next to the stand with the bowls and put the bowl under the table.

In the morning, the servants would pour the liquid in the barrels and the pots of each room into the ravines lining the latrines. Dump in liquid would be disposed of in due time. Ontari dried her hands one last time before entering the room where Klark lay almost prone. Ontari wouldn't even bother touching her chin to wipe Klark's fluid away. What would be the point? She entered there room and tossed off most of her garments on the floor, feet from the fireplace and looked down at Klark in the light of the fire from the candles, burning fire from the coals and the fireplace.

Klark's body glowed in the firelight, and the gold patch of hair between her legs glistened with the proof of her climax. Ontari looked at Klark's exhausted face, entrenched by sweat, tiredness and pleasure.

Ontari smiled, a strong surge of tenderness and love washing over her. She slid back onto the bed, on her knees and lay down between Klark's legs, mouth covering Klark's clit and sucked, her right thumb thrusting into Klark's opening. Ontari was rewarded with Klark's screams and weak clawing at her back and head yet again.

After the next near two hours of carnal desire wearing them out, Klark somehow summoning the strength to crawl on top of Ontari, helped shuck off the rest of the other's clothing and slipped her fingers into the black-haired woman's channel, grinding against each other's sex and their mouths on each other again and again, Klark fell asleep on Ontari and Ontari slumped back against the bed, thinking, too weak to do anything else. Ontari laid against the wooden headboard, an unconscious Klark lay on her lap. Ontari stroked a hand down Klark's bare, warm, scarred back. Her left hand tangled in Klark's pale blonde hair. The fur covers were draped over Klark's body, just below her shoulders.

Ontari sighed, thinking on all that Klark had sacrificed during her time here for her people. For the twenty-six, for the people in the Trikru territory. She had sacrificed so much. More than anyone should. Ontari knew that type of sacrifice well. Her left hand circled around Klark's hair to her face and stroked Klark's right cheek.

Ontari had been forced into this life, the moment she had been discovered as a natblida by the queen's guards. She would not wish this life on anyone else. Especially not her kran en segara. Ontari stared down at Klark, eyes half-closed. She made her decision then. Klark did not deserve to be bound to a life that was asking this much from her. Especially if she was to marry someone who she did not love in the same way as Ontari loved her. Ontari knew Klark loved her. But not in the way Ontari loved Klark. When Nia was killed and her followers exterminated and the throne claimed and all of the Skaikru were welcomed as Azgeda, then Ontari would let Klark go. Klark could leave her arms and be with whoever she wanted to be with. The Commander and her general, or someone else. But it would be up to Klark and no one else. As it should be.

Ontari nodded, resigning herself to this decision, trying to ignore the cold hand clamping over her heart at losing Klark. She leaned her head down and kissed Klark's right temple. For Klark, she'd make this decision. She hoped it made Klark happy when she heard it. She leaned her head down and kissed Klark's ear and whispered to her, "Tana shi kran en segara."

She pressed her forehead against the sleeping Klark's and kept stroking the other young woman's hair as they rested together. When this was all over and the Ice Nation was free of Nia, Ontari would let Klark decide whether she would be with her or not and there would be no price to pay if Klark chose not to stay with her. Klark's people would still be safe in the Ice Nation. If Klark wanted, she could be with who she wanted to be with without consequences. Ontari rested against Klark as she fell asleep. Klark's life had not been her own since coming to Earth. She followed the path that her mother expected of her, that her people expected of her, then the one that Leksa and Onya expected of her. And now the one that Nia expected of her. Klark deserved to be free. And Ontari would give Klark that as soon as Klark's people had a place in the Ice Nation and Nia was dead. She wouldn't have to marry anyone or be under anyone's rule after that. Not under Ontari's and not under Leksa's or Onya's.

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

 **Six months and two weeks ago**

 _There were six teenagers that felt very much like they didn't belong in this place, trekking through tall grass and between bulky rocks kept shifting nervous glances around the open fields and hills, seeing no other people here, save for the six of them. But weren't the Grounders good at hiding? Casey kept watching the few thin trees she saw and the bulky rocks. She looked at them from different angles as she and the others walked along, expecting to see people hiding behind them. Only when Casey saw no one, did she turn her head away as she walked._

 _She heard a chuckle next to her. "Nervous, huh?" She looked at Bobbi to her right. Bobbi was smirking, but Casey could read the uncertainty and fear in the other girl's eyes. Bobbi said, nodding, "I know how you feel. I don't know how I'll be able to deal with it if we run into a Grounder. Even if it's just one." She added quietly, "I don't want to run into any Grounder. Even one could probably kill all six of us." Bobbi nodded. It might have been an exaggeration, but they had heard over the radios how strong some Grounders were. They didn't want to risk the possibility of what Casey suggested coming into fruition._

 _Bobbi tensed up, fists clenched and glanced around the area. She doubted she would be much of a defense against any single Grounder, considering how strong they were described as being. But she'd rather go down fighting, even if it was dying pitifully before getting her head crushed in._

 _The childish giggling from Mario as he jumped around the small stumps of earth where they were walking, looking at everything like it was the most beautiful sight in the world. Parker glared at him and grumbled, asking if he was two years old or something. David had thankfully not said any hostile remarks in a while. At first there had been grumbling about how boring this was going to be and how stupid and all that. But after an hour, the whining had been filtered out. Some of them now had containers full of fresh water that they got from the dropship that Finley brought them. The troubling thing was that besides some small fish in the lakes and rivers, they saw no animals. No berries or nuts on the trees. It didn't look good when it came to things they might eat._

" _Uh, guys?" Casey said nervously, "I am not seeing many food options." Mario shrugged. "Hey, I'm sure loads and loads of those small fishes we saw could be good as food." "Yeah," Bobbi said dryly, "But that means we'd have to gather a thousand or a million fish before we got enough to survive on. Mario, do you really want to go through all that? Hunting down a deer would be easier, even if we've never done it before."_

 _Mario chuckled, but said nothing more than that._

 _Casey looked over at where Jesse was flanking her and Bobbi. She got the distinct impression that Jesse, who was scouting the area again and again, that the other girl was trying to calculate how far they'd have to go. Or how hospitable the environment was for other people to come down. Either way, Casey recognized Jesse's look to be one of contemplation and strategizing._

" _Hey," Casey asked, swallowing a little, wondering what her deal was at feeling like she couldn't speak. "You okay there? Jesse?" The other tall girl jumped and turned her head to Casey, curious. Casey repeated the question. "You okay?" Jesse nodded. "I'm good." She said, smiling. "Just wondering where the hell we are." "I believe we've already asked that." Parker grumbled. "I don't think a giant map with the words 'you are here' are gonna pop up at any moment in front of us."_

 _Jesse chuckled. "No. I guess it won't. But any guesses?"_

 _Casey shrugged, looking around at all the cliffs and hills and rocks. It was hard to say. She would not claim to know what the landscapes were like on Earth after the bombs hit. But she was guessing a lot had changed after the bombs. She said to everyone, glancing at Jesse, "I couldn't begin to guess. But if we want to throw a few wild guesses out there, maybe somewhere in Colorado. Or the warmer parts of North Dakota?" She heard Mario snort, "Warmer?"_

 _Casey laughed, "Warmer is relative, Mario. There supposedly are a lot colder areas in North Dakota. This is nothing by comparison."_

" _That's comforting." Mario said dryly, moving along._

 _Casey smirked. She turned back to the rocky and hilly path, finding two wide fields. Both dotted with bright yellow, orange and light blue flowers. She smiled. Well, it was nice to see that flowers still bloomed. Even after the bombs. Her mom loved looking at pictures of flowers. They were considered a waste on the Ark because you couldn't eat them. So when they were manufactured, the people who made them, if caught, tended to be floated. If not used to grow other plants that could provide more oxygen or fruit and nuts or medicine._

 _It was nice to see these flowers._

" _My guess?" Parker said suddenly, "From some of the pictures I've seen from Earth in the history books? We might be somewhere in England. One of the colder places."_

 _Casey almost choked on nothing at the thought, stopping in her tracks, making Bobbi and the others halt. "E-England?!" She sputtered. "Not even America? Parker, I'm really hoping that's not true. If not, we can't even get into contact with the rest of the Ark people that landed here before us. For the sake of sanity and not getting any headaches, please think of somewhere else."_

 _Parker tossed her hands up, glaring at Casey. "What am I, one of those magic eight balls you shake around to get an answer?" At Casey's blank look, Parker groaned, "Really, you don't know what that is?" She looked at the others who were throwing her blank looks. "No one knows what a magic eight ball is?" At Mario and Bobbi's shaking heads, Parker groaned. "A magic eight ball is a toy. Sort of. It has this opening at the bottom and you shake it to get an answer you're wondering and it gives you an answer that is stored away. It's kind of like taking words out of a hat full of pieces of paper. You don't know which answer you're going to get."_

" _Oh yeah," David said, blinking in remembrance. "I think I remember seeing an old toy like that back on the Ark. It was really old looking." Parker nodded. "Yeah. They're old. My dad kept around one because it was his father's toy as a kid before he and his parents went on the Ark. My dad held onto his dad's belongings."_

 _Casey nodded, understanding. She got that too well. Her parents were dead. But she held on tightly to the clothing. Her dad's jacket for one that was far too big on her body. She pressed her hands against the thick, black material of the weather-breaker jacket that had belonged the late Max Zhu. The paper symbols that Casey had stuffed into the pockets of her jacket that had belonged to her mother, the symbols of the door spirits that her mother's grandmother had believed in were what little she had left of her mother besides some photographs she had of her parents. All the other Chinese tapestries and items that her mother had inherited from Casey's great-grandmother had either been lost in the transference from Earth to the Ark, or been destroyed by carelessness of guards and other people on the Ark. The photographs and the small rolled up papers that Casey had in her pocket of the door spirits were all she had left of her mother. Casey was not a violent person, but she was sure she'd lash out if anyone tried to take them from her._

 _Ellen Zhu had stolen medicine for her husband years ago when Casey had been seven. She was caught. She was executed. Her father recovered from the flue. But he never recovered from his wife's death. He drank and tried to stay on a good line, but all that drinking must have distracted him. He was a mechanic on the Ark. And during one of the malfunctions of the water recycling systems, he must have been drunk, because he had done something really stupid. He clipped the wrong wire for wiring the systems to pump the water. And that was right under a leaky pipe. The pipe had gradually started flooding as a result of the mistake and the water dropped on Max Zhu while he was cutting the wires._

 _Anyone who knew even a little about electricity and water could tell you how that would end._

 _Casey had to say, when her father's electrocuted body had been brought to her and shown to her so that she could say her last words before sending the body out into space, hadn't been in the worst condition one might expect when they thought of the word "electrocuted."_

 _But when she had seen him stiff as a board, body limp, blood on his right hand, his face and chest, burn marks all over, it was enough to make her puke right on the floor of the Ark at the feet of the guards who had brought her father's body to her. When she went to the funeral to see her father's body get ejected out of the Ark, she had never hated Thelonius Jaha more for that moment. She hated him plenty for executing her mother. But when her father was all she had left, him knowingly putting her father in a dangerous situation had gotten her father killed. And he then got rid of the body. Instead of giving it a grave on the Ark. Sure, there wasn't enough room. And she was just one of thousands of people. So if Jaha did that for one person, he'd have to do that for everyone._

 _But never had Casey wanted to shove Jaha out of the airlock doors like she had when he had gotten rid of her father's corpse._

 _Casey hoped that Parker had it better than she did. That at least one of Parker's parents was alive._

 _Bobbi was looking around and suddenly she gasped, stepping away. Casey looked at her. "Bobbi? What is it?" Bobbi leaned close, whispering to Casey, "Um, you know how we talked about running if we saw a Grounder or Grounders?" Casey nodded, heart skipping a few beats at what Bobbi was suggesting she saw. "Yeah." Bobbi gulped. "I think we might have to run. I just saw this big, brown figure behind that tree over there." Bobbi nodded to three wide trees two short and stubbly grass covered hills over. "Behind the trees. The one all the way to our right. There's something behind there."_

 _As soon as Bobbi said this, everyone in the group tensed. Mario's shoulders tensed up and he lost his grin. He looked right over to where the three trees were. His jaw clenched and twitched. Casey froze, body tensing as well. Her hands clenched. If it had been Mario or Parker that had claimed they saw something, Casey might be suspicious that it was a joke. But it wasn't Parker or Mario that had said it. Bobbi had said that she thought she saw something. Casey, swallowed painfully. Were they going to be attacked? This soon after landing? Sure, she understood that the politics of the whole Grounders vs. Ark people were probably more complicated than just the "vs." part, but when you just landed on the ground and were immediately attacked by people on the ground just for being there, it was hard not to feel a little resentful. Especially since it wasn't even their fault they were sent down here. If the Grounders wanted to bitch about that, they could speak to Charles Pike for all Casey cared._

 _Casey debated what to do for a time. Should they head back to camp now? What if they led this Grounder, if it_ _was_ _a Grounder, back to the others? Should they stay here and wait it out till this person, if it was a person, went away? If so, wouldn't someone come after them from the dropship and the whole point of only six of them being in danger would be pointless?_

 _Should they talk to this person? Casey knew that it was said that some Grounders didn't even speak English. But what if this one did? Could they reason with them? Casey was immediately pessimistic about the thought of reasoning with a Grounder. All of the stories said that every Grounder encounter ended badly. At least, that was what they were told by Pike who got his information from radios on the ground. It was a bad game of telephone from the get-go. But it made Casey suspicious of any Grounder they might run into._

 _While Casey was contemplating what to do, David decided for all of them. He suddenly started stomping over, hand over fist, cracking his knuckles. "What the-?" Jesse said, looking down at him going down the hill to the next one. "David, what are you freaking doing?" David threw back, glaring over at Jesse, "Hey, if these Grounders want to start a fight with us, then fine. The least they could fucking do is come out and fight like men, instead of hiding in the woods to attack."_

" _David!" Casey yelled, panic in her voice, eyes wide. This was NOT good. If there was a Grounder behind those trees, then David was exhibiting very aggressive behavior and may give the Grounders that lived here the wrong idea. And if all it took to set the Grounders off was being on their territory? Then they were pushing their limits already by David going over there._

" _David," Jesse snapped, "Don't be stupid! You'll die!"_

" _Yeah, seriously," Mario threw at David. "Do you have a bazooka or a rocket launcher hidden up your ass? That's probably the only way you could beat a Grounder in a one-on-one fight! You haven't been trained since you were a kid, dumbass!"_

" _Shut up!" David snapped. "I'll be fine! Too scared to face the big bad Grounders, Mario? Fine. Go and run back to the dropship!" David's head was turned back to the other terrified five on the hill. He turned his head. Just as he did, what had been hiding behind the trees came out. As soon as it did, David stopped in his tracks, and Casey wouldn't be surprised if he had soiled himself. Casey wasn't sure_ _she_ _wouldn't._

 _It wasn't a Grounder. It was a bear. A big, husky, brown bear._

" _Oh fuck." Parker whispered, stepping back._

" _Yeah…" Mario mumbled weakly, all humor gone from him now, his face deathly pale, "So about that bazooka or rocket launcher….."_

 _David stepped back and Casey, while not able to see his face, could almost feel his terror._

 _Casey's heart was lurching out of her chest, and her eyes looked around, checking for anything they could use against the bear. It seemed like an insane concept. The six of their weak, fleshy little bodies going up against a massive bear, but they had to do something, or else they'd get wrecked to pieces. Her eyes found a large boulder jutting out of the ground, through the thin, prickly grass._

 _It was at an angle that was sticking out, but there were barely roots or earth covering the back of it, keeping it where it was. Casey looked around for anything they could use to push the boulder loose. Any sticks or sharp rocks. She finally found something. It was small, but it was something. A long, thin stick on the ground a foot from her. She bolted towards it and grabbed it up. She went to the boulder, leaning down. Mario looked at her, "What are you doing, Casey?" "Help me!" Casey snapped at him. "Or David's dead!"_

 _Mario and Bobbi only hesitated a second before going down to the small gap between the rock and the ground and helped Casey scrape away Earth and pull at the roots, freeing the boulder. Jesse saw what they were doing and quickly went to help them. Parker saw them and looked back at David and the damn bear. Her heartbeat went wild, seeing the large, brown beast about to charge at David whose legs were trembling and was beginning to slowly creep back up the hill, his body hindered by his fear._

 _Parker groaned. She wanted to blame David for what was about to happen to him because he was such an idiot. But she couldn't just leave him to die. She went down to the patch between the rock and the grass too, pulling at the roots. Casey, while the others pulled at the ground and roots, stuck the bottom of the stick between the rock and the earth, hoping to aim the boulder more towards where the bear was. Bobbi and Jesse put their full weight into slamming against the rock as Casey put her full weight into jamming the stick further between the rock and the ground._

 _The bear let loose a roar and lumbered at David who was only seven feet away._

 **Present day**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke had gotten dressed as quickly as Ontari had after they had sex a couple of times in the morning. Ontari almost couldn't stop holding Clarke when it was time for them to get out of bed. Finally, they separated and they went to their clothes. They went downstairs and got their food. The grim silence throughout the hall was eerie. Everyone knew what was coming in only an hour. The death of the last Mountain Man. And he wasn't going to die in just any way. He was going to have his skin stripped from his bones. He was going to have his heart cut out. His head taken off. His body left to rot out in the land instead of being burned.

It was a horrifying thing to do to anyone. Even to one such as Emerson. But Clarke was going to do it in just an hour.

She had told Ontari about the letter from Razeeta. Ontari had reacted as Clarke predicted. She had looked like she just might grab a sword and storm over to the Milgred territory and start threatening the queen of their kingdom in the south. But almost as soon as she had, Clarke could see that Ontari forced herself to calm down. Ontari had sadly looked at Clarke and said, _"You could have told me about the letter."_ Clarke had nodded. She knew that. And she knew that she probably should have told Ontari about Razeeta's letter sooner. But now Ontari knew. Ontari had sighed and nodded and said that she'd want to look at it later, with Clarke's permission. Ontari had not demanded it. Clarke could tell. Ontari was just _asking_ for the letter. So Clarke had agreed. After this whole thing with Emerson was over for good, when his head was mounted on a spike outside the castle walls and his skinned, heartless body was left to the cold and starving animals, then she would give Ontari the letter.

When both of them were fully dressed, Ontari pulled Clarke to her and hugged her close. Clarke kissed Ontari's throat and buried her face in the other young woman's neck and wrapped her arms around Ontari's body. "It'll be okay." She said to Ontari, knowing that it would be a long time before they could be called "okay." "It'll be okay."

Ontari nodded against Clarke, forehead going to Clarke's. Neither of them needed to say more than that. Clarke stepped back from Ontari, right hand over Ontari's left cheek. She smiled at Ontari lovingly. She knew Ontari would forgive her for what she was about to do. She knew Ontari would understand, even if she hated every moment of it. Clarke understood the look that Ontari was giving her. _I'll be by your side. Through all of it. And long after that._

Clarke nodded, leaning forward and kissing Ontari on the lips passionately. Her tongue danced with Ontari's heatedly as the other woman held her tight.

They finally parted after what seemed like forever and while still grasping onto each other tightly. Clarke smiled at Ontari and slowly led the other young woman to the door. The servants would put out the rest of the fires, but Clarke made sure both candles were out by the door. They had already been blown out by Ontari after last night so nothing could catch fire. She squeezed Ontari's hand and reached out, pulling the door open.

The two of them stepped out and Clarke closed the door behind them. She heard other people coming out of their rooms upstairs and downstairs. The others were getting ready. Clarke and Ontari reached the stairs, almost instantly joined by Farron who was practically galloping down the stairs at them. Mario slowly walked down the stairs behind Farron, smirking and rolling his eyes. Mario ruffled Farron's hair and grumbled, "Here's the brat. I'm sure you'll be happy to know he didn't wet the bed."

Clarke scowled at Mario. "Mario, seriously?"

Farron looked up at Mario, glaring. "Shut up." Clarke and some of the others chuckled. Farron had grown a bit more confident since being taken in by his new family, so he could spat his mouth off if he wanted. Besides, with them, unless he was in front of the queen, he could spat off as much as he wanted without getting into trouble. Besides, such remarks from him were a good sign. It was a sign of his growing confidence.

Clarke reached her right hand out and Farron took it. Clarke walked Farron towards her and he was to the right of her soon, the two of them walked down the hall. They were joined by more of the twenty-six. Glenn, Rora, Beryl, Simone, Parker, Casey and Jesse were coming down from upstairs. Mario, Finley, David, Bobbi, Paul, Christopher, Sabine and Lorena were of the first group that joined Clarke and Ontari. The next group coming up from behind them, coming out of their rooms, and closing the doors were Kristin, Blair, Hodge, Frank, Kozarr, Cody and Dallas. Clarke looked behind her shoulder at the group, all at the ready with her. She smirked.

She knew where the others were. She knew their schedules today. Martin was shadowing Mathias. Bailey, Avery and Cameron were training. Edmund and West were preparing for their guard duty as Nia and Ontari's protectors for today.

Linden and Lane would be at the main hall downstairs, waiting for them. Clarke went down the stairs, Farron and Ontari alongside her. The others followed. When they got down the stairs, as soon as they were seen by the thousands of onlookers from the balconies, from the tables, the massive room went silent. Everyone stood up from their seats, bowing their heads in respect as the Princess of the Ice Nation and Wanheda appeared before them.

Ontari, Clarke, Farron and the rest of the group of twenty-six and Kozarr and Rora walked along the floor, going to the stone podium leading up to the thrones. On the top step, right next to Ontari's throne were West and Edmund. Edmund's two swords were strapped tightly to his side, his nightmarish, black fur and leather, snarling wolf mask covering his copper face, the straps over his curls of caramel hair. Just next to him, was West. She was armed with a sword at her side and an ax strapped to her back. Her brown leather mask of a gruesome tusked warthog covered her pale face, the straps tightly tied over her messy night black hair.

Though one of Edmund's arms barely worked anymore, thanks to the injuries the Azgeda dealt to him in the dungeons, his other arm worked perfectly fine. And there were clamps and grips built into his knives' and swords' hilts, so even if he grabbed them with his bad hand, he would be able to hold onto the weapons perfectly fine when he swung the weapons towards his opponents. The fierce training that Edmund and West had received over the months made them into dangerous bodyguards. Should anyone try to attack the princess or the queen, West and Edmund's swords would impale them, fast.

Ontari, Clarke, Farron and the others went to their knees and bowed their heads, addressing the queen. Nia nodded and the group before her rose up. The group started walking to the tables. Clarke followed gradually. Ontari walked from Clarke nodding to her. Clarke followed Ontari with her eyes. Ontari kept her eyes locked with Clarke's before turning and going up the steps to her throne. She went to the throne by her mother's side, nodding to Edmund and West who bowed to her. They got up only when Ontari sat down in it, facing the rest of the hall, black, fur cape under her as she leaned back against the throne, watching.

Nia called out to Clarke and her group's table, Wanheda, I know that today is when you enact the Helrer upon the last Mountain Man. The last drop of Mountain Man blood is to be spilt today. And it will be at your hands, Wanheda. All here who hears this shall witness it. Today. At the stadium. All shall witness the end of our most hated enemy. The complete destruction of the race of people that dared to steal our people. Our children, our brothers, our sisters, our entargs. The last of their putrid race shall die in agony today. And it will be at the hands of Wanheda herself. The same warrior who destroyed the Mountain Man's home and his people! Klark, once a Skaikru, now a great and powerful Azgeda. Who will one day rule as my daughter's wife and your queen and one day your Hedatu."

With each word Nia called out, the crowds cheered louder and louder, invigorated by the promise of a slow and torturous death, by blood, by the promise of victory over all.

Clarke tried to ignore the tension those promises brought. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Finley, Glenn, Jesse, Casey and Cody trying not to show that they were uneasy at these promises-at the promise of an eventual coming all out war against the other tribes. They had to keep their heads leveled for now. Or they'd be killed and the planning would be for nothing.

The queen held up a hand and swiftly, all who cheered silenced themselves. The queen started speaking again, voice cold, "One day, we will have not just the blood of the Trikru and all those that oppose us. But we will have the blood of Heda herself for spiting us. For snubbing us. For treating us as anything except part of the coalition. Our time is coming. Heda shall bow to us before we take her head." More roaring cheers filled the room, seeming to almost make the room vibrate with the energy. Clarke turned her gaze to Ontari, who remained with a somehow unchanging impassive face. Ontari's eyes locked with Clarke's across the room. Clarke knew what they promised each other. They would stop this. They would put an end to the queen's madness before it came to fruition. The queen held her hand up again and there was silence. "But for now, we must witness the last of the Mountain Men's blood spill across the floor of our ring. We will watch him bleed till his spirit leaves this world and never comes back to it."

More cheering filled the room and while that went on, Clarke felt several eyes on her. She turned to them and from Kristin, Casey, Beryl, Mario, Glenn, Rora, David, Hodge, Finley and Cody, she could see that they were going to back her no matter what. Clarke nodded. She still just didn't know how she had gotten so lucky, no matter how fucked up her life was now. These people would support her and be there for her no matter what she did. And that? That wasn't just luck. That was a family. She smiled at them, looking down at Farron who looked back at her with warmth and affection in his eyes.

This was her home. And she was going to defend it. From Emerson. From the Queen's madness. Even from the Skaikru back in the Trikru territory. Even from the traitorous Commander, Lexa herself if she needed to.

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Onya watched Wels intently while he ate. The young man was laughing with Sharlot, Reivon, Sterlying, Foks, Hapah and Munroh. He had practically downed two whole bowls of stew from the boars butchered down below. He had wisely kept Sharlot from going near the decks below and risking her seeing such a horrible sight. The blood had been spilled into the ocean. Fur sliced all off and the rest of the animal cooked. The bones were tossed into the water.

Onya knew that Sharlot would not react well to hearing the animals being killed. So like everyone else, she did not talk about it.

Linkin had brought bowls of meat stew to the still bound Oktevia in the middle of the deck, feeding her. Some other warriors took turns making sure Oktevia got water and food while the seething and exhausted brown-haired girl was kept there. The seas hadn't been so rough, so Leksa had ordered that Oktevia remain there. The 100 and some of the other Sky People would make small talk with Oktevia to make sure she was more or less okay and that she had someone to talk to. It would be only a few more days and they would cut her loose completely. They had untied her occasionally so that her arms and legs didn't become numb, but only for a few minutes before tying her back up again.

Onya kept a close eye on Wels. She then looked at Leksa who was eating her own food. She knew one day she would have to tell both Klark and Wels about the village that Leksa had made up to make the Skaikru think that they were in the Trikru's debt. If they wanted to earn any of Klark or Wels's trust back, telling them would be complicated, yes. But it would be the right thing to do. Onya normally would never have thought of it that way. But it was. The more she thought about it, telling Wels, someone who trusted her more, respected her more than he respected Leksa and was Klark's dear friend and brother deserved to know the truth. He _should_ know the truth. And if she wanted Klark to ever feel like she could ever learn to trust either Onya or Leksa again, she would need to know everything.

But right now, Onya knew telling Wels was unacceptable. Wels already possessed an unimaginably low opinion of the Commander. If he found out that 'Deyorele' had been a village that had burned down almost eighty years before Wels and his people came down _now,_ he would never trust either her or Leksa again while on this mission to rescue Klark from Nia.

And they couldn't allow that. Right now, they needed to be as united as they could be in rescuing Klark. So as much as it hurt Onya to lie to Wels continually, she knew what had to be done for Klark. She hoped Wels understood. After the talk they had the day before, where Wels basically had said, he would be okay with Klark, Reivon and Sharlot being stolen from their people if it meant the three of them were safe from war, Onya was sure he would hear her out. But Onya knew she was treading on dangerous territory. Watching Wels and Leksa being in the same space as the other on deck was like watching a species that were enemies circle each other. She just expected there to be blood on the deck at any moment between Wels's glaring and snickering at Leksa and Leksa staring at Wels like he was constantly going over a line.

Telling Wels now while tensions were already dangerously thick was not a good idea. So Onya would stay silent. But she knew one day she would have to say something.

"What are you thinking about, Onya?" Leksa asked between gulps of her food. Onya looked at her former Seken. Onya glanced at Wakuren, who was eating across from her, next to Leksa and two other warriors. Onya turned back to Leksa. "I don't think. I know that we're going to have to tell Klark one day about Deyorele."

Leksa stiffened. She sighed, putting her spoon down on the table. "You've always been too blunt with Klark." "And you've always been too soft with her. Lying to her even to soften the blow. Why am I too blunt? Because I tell her the truth?" Onya asked. "The way things are? She won't thank you for keeping it a secret. She'll distrust us, even hate us either way. If we tell her sooner, there's more of a chance of her forgiving us." Leksa fixed Onya with a cold stare. "You truly believe this?" Onya stared back, hands digging into the table.

She hoped that Klark would forgive them. But then again, Onya had always been taught by her father and by her teachers that hope was for the foolish.

But she shared the same hope with Leksa that she knew kept the younger up at night as much as it did Onya. The hope that Klark would forgive them. For both Deyorele and for the mountain.

 **Author's note:**

 **Atteren: Goodnight in Azgeda language**

 **Tana shi: Sleep well**

 **To press my point with the Bellboy fans and Bellarkers, you know what you remind me of? Not just people that will send love letters to serial killers, but on a _much_ more minor note, Twilight fans. People that will fawn over Edward despite him being a stalker and abuser and over Jacob, despite being almost a rapist and a pedophile. I mean, that series is misogynistic in general anyway, but just saying. I swear, I was the only young adult with common sense while that series was out. Yeah, so while I'm sure you have no shame in the letters to serial killer department, think about that one, since I suspect you care more about that because you're shallow than about the real life serial killers you've sent letters to. **

**And I'm not asking if you have or haven't sent letters to serial killers. Maybe you haven't. But I know you Bellarkers sure want to. Because they're the type of men you like, aren't they? Some of the serial killers I've heard about sure sound like your type of men, Bellarkers. Go ahead, defend Bellboy again. You're just like those politicians that swear in rapists into office and people who vote for gay people to be killed. Go ahead, defend him. Prove. My. Fucking. Point.**


	23. The Beginning: King Wells makes his move

**Did you think I was done? Bellboy kills three hundred people in their sleep while Clarke is in Polis and therefore puts her in danger and yet people are whipping all the excuses that they can out of their asses. He selfishly for only one reason, to save his own skin, throws a radio into the river, getting 150 people killed and yet he's forgiven immediately. Apparently all you need is to have a dick and be good looking to be praised and forgiven. But the moment a** _ **woman**_ **does something horrible, even if it's to protect her people, like Clarke does, that's when the magnifying glasses come out and analyzing everything.**

 **Guest:** **To answer your question about the "delusional one," yes I do. Yes. It's funny. But whenever I see people like that posting who I assume are on some hallucinagenic I sing to myself one of my favorite songs. Lily Allen's song, "Fuck you (very much)." It's amusing and uplifting, cutting and vulgar all at the same time.**

 **To the delusional one: (ClaireR89): I'm cynical? Well, gee, I wonder why. Have you ever listened to a newscast in 2016-2018 in your life? Or have you just been living under a rock for the past three years? Just asking out of sheer curiosity. And want to know something even worse? Republicans just made it so that Native Americans can't vote. They used a law against PO boxes. And oh yeah, rapists, racists, abusers, pedophiles, anti-immigration and anti-LGBTQI assholes and misogynists are ruling my country. So yeah, I'm a little cynical. The fact that you aren't makes me think that you really HAVE been living under a rock this whole time. But yeah, Bellboy excusers biggest problems are that they don't get the ship they want exactly when their privileged whiny asses want it. Okay, sure.**

 **Bicolour Raptor:** **To answer your question, I don't think Luna will be involved. Not this early. She might be involved later in some way. Luna and Clarke together, I'll admit is a nice idea. I might write it in a later fic. But I don't know yet.**

 **Guest:** **Yes, actually, Anya is stupid. At least about certain strategies. She thinks this way is smarter. She thinks that if she does this, Wells will be more loyal to them in the Ice Nation while trying to get Clarke back. Not the smartest move, but there you are.**

 **Trigger warnings for eventual graphic violence and warnings for an animal's graphic death in this chapter**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 23: King Wells makes his move:**

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

"You cheated!" Anya actually laughed instead of glaring at the young man across from her on the other side of the chessboard. Wels grinned at her. "Cheated, huh? How did I cheat? Haven't you lost so many times that you shouldn't be worrying about me cheating by this point? I can beat you perfectly without cheating."

Onya snorted. "Thinking very highly of yourself, aren't you, Wels?" She asked dryly. Of course he was right. But that didn't change the fact that he had cheated. Onya had noticed a pattern in their games. She tended to lose her rooks faster than Wels did. And Wels lost his bishops faster than she did. The most irritating pieces in the game, besides the queen were the knights. They could move anyway you wanted them, as long as you went two spaces one way and one space another way. And when presented with the opportunity to get rid of one of those pesky little knights, Onya had taken the chance. It had cost her one of her rooks. Then the other one had been taken by Wels's own rook when she had disposed of one of Wels's bishops. Which left them with this little mess on the board.

She had discovered the joy of the bishops moving diagonally and used them to her advantage. It impressed Wels, much to Onya's pride. But they still had this confusing mess on the board.

And it led to Wels cheating, strangely enough. There was only one queen in the game. So what had he done? Making _two_ queens? "You have two queens." She answered, nodding to the board. Wels claimed that his pawn was now a queen. How was that possible?

Wels nodded, still grinning. "Yup. And that's not cheating. It's one of the rules that is flexible. A queen can make another pawn a queen. The move is called 'Promotion.' When a pawn moves to the eighth square, it can turn into any piece that the player wants the pawn to turn into. If one of the rooks or one of the bishops are gone, then you can turn them into a bishop or a rook. But you can have two queens."

Onya felt like her brain might explode with that information. She said, smirking, her ire starting to be accompanied by amusement and even further admiration, "So all this time, you've known that and you never have told me?" She added, chuckling at Wels and Klark's deviousness, "And neither did Klark? I assume that Klark knew of this too?" _Naturally_ Klark hadn't told either Onya or Leksa about this move.

Why tell someone who you'd be facing off against in chess something they could defend against or could use themselves? Onya was impressed by Klark and Wels's deviousness, she confessed to herself.

Wels nodded again. "That's right. We learned to play chess from the same person. Clarke's dad." Mentioning Jake Griffin sent a jolt of pain into his chest and he winced. Onya noticed the change and lost her smile. Klark's father. That was a subject of great grief and sadness. Understandably. Onya eyed Wels regretfully, though she hid most of her emotions. She had confided in Klark with memories of her father and brother. Those that died in the wars before the Coalition had been formed by Leksa. And Klark had lost her father as well. So had Wels. His father may not have been dead. But Wels probably would never see Thelownyus Jaha ever again.

"Do you miss them?" Onya asked the young man. "Klark's father? Or your father?"

Wels sat back against his chair, sighing, the chessboard with many discarded pieces next to it and with two queens cornering a king, the king with only a knight, a few pawns and a bishop to defend it on top of the board, all but forgotten.

"My dad?" Wels said. "Sometimes. I know what he's done. What kind of man he is. I do know that. But we did care about each other. But you know what's horrible? I don't miss him as much as I miss Clarke's dad." Wels's smile became morose. "Jake Griffin was more of a father to me most of the time than my dad was." Onya stiffened, staring at Wels. But she wasn't surprised. She shouldn't be in the first place. She had met Thelownyus Jaha only once. And once had been enough to know what kind of man he was.

He was a man who would sacrifice everyone, as long as he achieved what he believed to be his ideal. It didn't matter if the ideal could potentially get all his people killed. If it meant chasing after some dream, then he would do it.

Thelownyus Jaha did not strike her as the type of man that would be a good, giving or warm father.

So it didn't surprise her that Klark's father, Jayke was a more fitting father than Thelownyus had been.

"And Jayke," Onya said, nodding the chessboard, "He taught you and Klark how to play chess?" Wels nodded. Onya looked at the remaining few pieces across the black and white square checkered board. "Then he was very skilled at it." There wasn't anything else that Onya knew what to say about the matter. How did you express any emotions over a complicated history like this? Klark's father had been killed by Klark's mother and by Wels's father. And he had been a better "parental figure" as the Sky People called guardians, than either Abi or Thelownyus had been.

Abi being Klark's blood mother was the only thing that protected Abi from Onya racing up to the deck and ending the woman's life right here and now. If Thelownyus Jaha was here now, Onya was not sure she could extend that same courtesy. They both had hurt Klark worse than anyone, even worse than Leksa had. They had killed Klark's father. And Klark had told Onya a lot about her father. Klark had been close with the man. Closer than Klark had been with Abi.

It made Onya's blood boil that Abi had willingly went to someone Abi knew to be merciless in his decisions and told Jaha about Jayke's decision to warn the people of the Ark about what he found. But Onya knew if she slit Abi's throat and threw Abi's body into the ocean, she would just be one more person hurting Klark. She would not do anything against Abi, until either Leksa or Klark said to do otherwise.

"Yeah," Wels answered. "He did. You know," Wels chuckled, "Not even Clarke was able to beat Jake. I sure wasn't able to. And the times Clarke _did_ beat him? I think both Clarke _and I_ knew that Jake let Clarke win."

Onya smiled at that. Klark had mentioned suspecting the same thing when she talked about the times she had played chess with her father. Jayke Grifin had sounded like a wonderful nontu. And Abi Grifin and Thelownyus Jaha had taken him from Klark and from Wels.

How Klark hadn't wanted Abi dead in Polis, Onya would never know. But Klark had decided to let the matter be, even if Abi did not deserve it.

So Abi was to live, unfortunately. Much to Onya's disdain.

Thinking about people that she and Wels didn't like and thinking about grim matters, Onya found her mind traveling to a question. One she had been wondering for a while now. "Wels, can I ask you something?" Onya asked the young man. Wels looked at Onya, curious, but nodded.

Onya asked the question gently, knowing this was a tender subject for the young man, "Why do you feel so much anger and rage towards Belomi kom Skaikru? What was it that he did to earn such hatred?"

Wels's eyes widened and he snorted, glaring at the chessboard. He looked around the room, Onya suspected it was to say what he was thinking without risk of any other Sky People hearing. He turned to Onya and said, "Can you promise not to repeat what I'm about to say to anyone? Unless the Commander orders you to tell her?" Onya stared at Wels. This sounded like it was going to be heading into some heavy territory. She nodded. "I promise." She answered. And she meant to keep this promise too. Just like she meant to keep her promise to Wels about keeping Klark, Sharlot and Reivon safe if the war came between their people.

Wels nodded, satisfied. He sighed, "You know why the Ark had to come down, right?"

Onya nodded. "Because your people were running out of air."

Wels nodded. "That's right. That's why we, the one hundred were sent down to test the ground. But the thing was, Octavia was arrested. And you know why, right? The one child law?"

Onya nodded. "Sha. Barbaric law."

Wels agreed. "It sure is. But the problem is that Octavia was headed to Earth in the dropship. Bellamy needed to protect her, so he shot my father in exchange to get into the ship."

That startled Onya. Belomi had shot Wels's father? Was that why-?

At Onya's questioning look, Wels shook his head. "No, that's not the reason why. I know what my father's capable of, like I said. I don't hate him because he shot my father." Wels took a breath, teeth grinding. "So Bellamy joined us on the ship after he made that deal. But that means he committed a serious crime. Could you imagine someone trying to assassinate the Commander?"

Onya narrowed her gaze. Yes, she could. And she had witnessed some of those attempts. It usually ended with the attempted assassin either taking their own life to prevent a brutal execution, or a death by a thousand cuts.

Or either Onya, Gostos or Indra's weapons would find the assassin's throat first.

Wels nodded. "I'm guessing you could. Anyway, that meant Bellamy had just committed a capital offense. A great crime. He shot our leader.

"So he had to be held accountable," Wels continued, "So to save his life from being killed for it, Bellamy had everyone's life detecting bracelets taken off." Onya went still, hearing this. She knew what those bracelets were. Wels and Klark had both explained what they did. They told the people on the Ark that the 100 were still alive. "But if you had to take your bracelets off," Onya said, putting the pieces together, "The Ark people wouldn't come down. And they would die."

Wels animatedly thrust both his hands out next to him in emphasis. " _Exactly."_ He said passionately. "There were millions of people on the Ark. And they would die if we took off our bracelets. I even told Bellamy myself what was happening and that he was killing the Ark if he did it. He didn't care. Finn and Octavia both found out about the Ark from Clarke, and still, he didn't care. Millions of lives on the line. Bellamy didn't care. Octavia told him and he didn't listen. Then Raven dropped down in her shuttle."

Wels's lower jaw tightened. "That's when I knew Bellamy was scum and would never change."

Onya narrowed her eyes. What did Wels mean by that? Didn't Wels love Reivon? At Onya's questioning look, Wels sighed. "You know that a hundred and fifty people were killed on the Ark before the Ark came down, right? That was why we set off those flares that burned down that village, Deyorele." Wels added, wincing. "Really sorry about that."

Onya nodded, feeling guilt eat at her. She was going to have to tell him and Klark at some point. But she wanted to hear what he had to say. Wels continued, "Well, the reason why one hundred and fifty people were executed on the Ark was to preserve oxygen. Air. There was a reason this happened. Because the Ark couldn't get into contact with us. Raven fell down to Earth. She had a radio with her. This radio would allow her to get into contact with the Ark and we could tell the Ark that we were alive and everyone on the Ark, including those one hundred and fifty people could come down and live. But instead, those people were executed. Do you know why?"

Onya's chest was tight. She had a feeling she was about to step into something big. Something Wels and Klark had both been hiding for a while. She had heard discussions of these "sacrificed one hundred and fifty people" on the Ark before from the other Sky People. She had assumed it had been from simple Sky People savagery. She never thought there was more to the story.

"Raven had this radio that would allow us to get into contact with the Ark." Wels added, his eyes cast down to the chessboard. "And the thing was this. If the rest of the Ark came down, the council would come down. And if the council came down, then Bellamy would have to be held accountable for his assassination attempt. He would be executed. That means one person would have to die for millions. But Bellamy couldn't stand that. He was too selfish. So he threw the radio into the river."

Wels took a breath, eyes filled with sorrow and anger. "Bellamy Blake threw the radio into the river so that he could live. He didn't care that millions would die in the process. That was a price he was willing to pay for his own life."

Onya didn't move. Her eyes stayed fixated on Wels. She really processed what Wels had told her just now. Millions of lives against one life. And in Bellamy's mind, his life meant so much more than those millions of lives.

"And this is someone who your people see as a leader?" Onya demanded, anger coursing through her veins like a burning river. "This is a man that has been allowed to stay in power?" Wels's eyes widened and he shrugged. "That's democracy for you. There will always be chances with democracy that you will vote in someone that doesn't belong in power."

"Vote?" Onya parroted. "You mean your people voted for someone like him to be in control?" Wels chuckled at the disgusted disbelief in the woman's voice. He nodded. "Yeah, I don't really believe it sometimes either. But that's the reason why I don't trust him. I could never trust him around Charlotte. Or Raven. Or Clarke. There's just something wrong with him." Wels shook his head. He raised his right hand to his forehead, his right index finger pressing against his forehead. "There's this thing we all have in our heads called a 'conscience.'" Wels said gently. "It's what tells us is right and tells us what is wrong. It's supposed to stop us from doing the wrong thing."

Wels dropped his right hand to the table as Onya stared at him. Wels grimaced. He spoke again. "Bellamy? He just doesn't have one of them. A conscience, I mean. His is missing. I don't think he ever had one."

Onya felt like she had been punched in the face a few times with this information. What an evil man. And he was allowed in control? The rest of the Sky People trusted him? "Does anyone else know what Belomi did?" Onya asked. Wels shook his head. "No. He does. Clarke and I know. Raven and Finn know. But that's it. No one else knows."

Onya's lower jaw tightened. All of this information explained a lot. It explained why every time Onya had seen Wels and Belomi in the same area as the other, Wels would always give the older man a disgusted look or would throw a hateful remark at him. This made things so much clearer.

Wels leaned forward against the table and looked around the room again. When he was sure no one was around, he turned back to Onya and spoke, eyes darkening with secrecy, "Anya, I don't have the right to ask this of you, but can I request something?"

Onya knew that Wels meant that he had asked enough of her with trying to get her to keep those he loved safe. But she would listen to what Wels requested nonetheless. She nodded and awaited Wels's words.

Wels said, staring firmly at the dangerous woman. "I don't trust Bellamy. I really don't. Especially around Clarke, Raven and Charlotte."

He sighed, a brief look of guilt crossing his eyes. "That's why I would like to ask you to take his life if he should ever threaten any of them. Or if he should ever do anything that is even close to what got the one hundred and fifty people killed when he threw the radio into the river. Promise me that you'll kill Bellamy if he ever does anything like what I told you he did."

Seeing Onya's eyes go wide, he added, "If I get the chance, I'll shoot him myself. But if I fail, promise me that you'll do it."

Onya's shock began to wear off. Her mind truly started to comprehend what she was hearing. Treason. She was hearing treason. Sure, the Skaikru were not yet part of the Coalition. Therefore if she listened or even agreed to do as Wels requested, _she_ was not committing any treason. Wels was the only one committing treason here. He was committing treason against his people. A thought struck Onya then. Was that why Wels was asking her to do this? To get an outside party to do what would mark Wels a traitor in his peoples' eyes if he was the one that did it?

"Wels," Onya said, eyes squinting as she comprehended everything, "Is this why you asked me specifically to kill Bellamy if he did anything like what you described? So that you would not be deemed a traitor?"

Wels shifted in his seat and she saw the guilt in his eyes, telling her the answer right away. Onya felt a laugh leave her throat. Wels and Klark. They were so deceitful. So devious. She had already had them as enemies once. She did not wish to relive that experience.

She had just barely avoided being burned alive the last time. Her three hundred warriors had not been so lucky.

What kind of enemies would Klark and Wels make this time if her people and Klark and Wels's people went to war again? What kind of leaders would Wels being this ruthless be and Klark being in Azgeda for as long as she had been be? What kind of ruthless leaders would they be?

For her own sake and the sake of her people, Onya hoped she would not find out. But what kind of leaders would Klark and Wels be once they got involved with Polis's politics? How sharp and deadly would they be? Klark most likely was on her way to being so deadly, with the "help" of the Ice Queen. What would happen when Klark was returned to her people and would be asked to be involved with politics then?

What would happen when Onya told Klark and Wels about what really happened to the village Deyorele and when it was really around who truly had burned it to the ground? Would Wels arrange for someone to kill _her_ and Heda too when he found out?

Onya looked down at the chessboard, picking up her king and looking at it. She looked at Wels calmly, really registering what Wels had just arranged for her to do to Wels's fellow leader. "You would use me as an assassin?" She emphasized.

He would use her as his knight. His blade against his fellow king, to protect the queen of his people. If Onya did not have high respect, admiration and even a little apprehension of Wels before, she certainly did now. Wels nodded. He looked around again before turning back to Onya. "I would." He answered. "If Bellamy would be in need of killing. And trust me, he's the type that tends to need it a lot, more often than he would let anyone think."

Onya found a bewildered snort of laughter leave her. So she was to aide Wels in his treacherous game. "If I don't?" Onya asked, putting the king back onto the chessboard between the two most threatening chess pieces, the original queen and the "new queen."

Wels shrugged. "Then I'll take the job on myself. But I'll feel safer knowing someone as skilled and strong as you are will be protecting Clarke. Even if it's from someone she trusts. Because believe me, Bellamy can't be trusted."

Onya nodded and thought about what Wels had said to her. Wels did not lie. That was the one thing she had learned from getting to know him in Polis. Wels Jaha did not lie. Which means the things he was saying that Belomi had done were true. All true. If that was true then could she let Klark go near him again? For Klark's safety, shouldn't Onya do as Wels asked?

Seeing Onya's apprehension, Wels nodded, adding, "I'm sorry for coming to you with this. But I trust you way more than I do the commander. If I told her about this, even if she does love Clarke, Lexa wouldn't _touch_ Bellamy, not if it meant that she might be getting into politically muddy waters."

Wels added, "That's why I came to you. You're a general. Not the Commander. And you are bound by no law to not hurt any of us, since the Sky People aren't yet in the Coalition. You aren't in any danger of being punished for committing such an action."

Onya snickered at Wels, another laugh coming out of her. "I think once again, I have underestimated you, Wels kom Skaikru. You are a formidable opponent." Wels smiled. "Glad you think so. You won't speak of this to anyone, will you?" Onya shook her head. If there was truth to what Wels told Onya about Belomi, then she would not tell anyone. And Wels did not lie.

So if there was even a breath from Belomi that he was going to show any treachery towards his people, she would kill him. If he ever so much as threatened Klark or Reivon, she would kill him.

She nodded at Wels. "You have my word, Wels Jaha kom Skaikru." Wels nodded. "Thank you. I know I've asked so much of you on this trip. But thank you." Onya sighed, looking at the vacant room around them. "You have. But it's all been for your people. And I would do it all in a second for Klark's sake." She turned to Wels who did not look surprised. He nodded again. "I know. That's again another reason why I went to you. You, I know would sacrifice honor and politics over Clarke. Lexa wouldn't. That's why I went to you. Besides," Wels grimaced again and Onya could tell he was recalling something, "As long as Bellamy is in power, I don't see peace happening with your people anytime soon."

Onya sighed, realizing that this was bigger than she had expected. Wels might not bow to Leksa ever, but he was no fool. He knew that if her people and his people ever to hope to have any kind of future together, the biggest obstacles would have to be removed. And if one of those obstacles was a fellow Sky Person, then Wels would take those matters into his own hands.

Onya smirked at Wels, "You know, Wels, if I was less strong and skilled than I am, I might feel threatened by your ability to manipulate." Wels chuckled. "Sorry. I certainly don't want _you_ to be afraid of me. But I will take your help if you're willing to give it. I'll just remind you that Clarke might be in danger one day from Bellamy. Trust me, I know him better than you do."

Onya nodded, teeth clenching at the thought of anything happening to Klark because of the man that Wels described. The _real_ Belomi, apparently. It was bad enough knowing that Klark was in Azgeda.

This new and troubling information did not help. Onya nodded. "I will help. If there are any hints that what you say comes true, if Belomi proves to be a threat to Klark, Reivon or your people, may the spirits have mercy on him."

Wels's mouth upturned almost and Onya wondered if Wels enjoyed hearing this or if he just enjoyed hearing that Belomi's life might come to an end soon. "Thank you, Anya. Thank you."

And with that, a treacherous deal was made. Leksa had deceived one Sky Person and would leave them all to die and Onya was about to deceive all the Sky People for the bidding of one. And in the end it would save the Sky People, unlike Leksa's deceptions. Onya not for the first time wondered if there was a god of irony.

Unbeknownst to either of them, someone _had_ been listening in. A figure leaned out of the shadows out of the back of the lower deck, peering at Wels and Onya in the dark.

Wakuren smirked when she was done hearing this promise made. She slowly shifted to the other side of the deck. She was not going to risk going up the nearest ladder. Onya would see and hear her. But if she used the ladder on the opposite side, she would not be seen. She and Onya had trained together and fought together for years during the wars before the Coalition. Wakuren knew very well what Onya could and couldn't hear. And she knew how to stay silent. She slipped around the plank of the left side of the further ladder and slowly crept up the stairs to the upper deck.

Her smirk fell from her face when she emerged onto the deck. She had checked the rest of the lower deck when she had started to listen in on the conversation, so as to make sure that no one else heard Onya and Wels talking together. Contrary to what she suspected Wels believed, not all people of the tribes, minus the obvious Azgeda, were loyal blindly to Leksa, the current Commander. So she did not care if any conspiratorial words were passed between Wels and Onya. She only cared about the danger Wels would be putting himself and potentially Klark into.

Wakuren wished to respect Wels's privacy, so the plan had not originally been to listen in on his and Onya's conversation. She knew they spoke together during their chess games a great deal. So she let the young man who she had come to see as her son have his privacy, as she wanted to give Klark. She would like to give both young people who she had come to see as her children their space, respectfully. But then she had heard what Wels had said about wanting Onya to do something for her and she couldn't help but listen in, realizing there was a plot alive and on the ship.

Learning what she learned about Belomi, she couldn't really say she was surprised. There was always something off about him. Something she just didn't trust. She knew very little about the man, just that he had opened fire on Onya at the bridge when Onya and Klark had tried to form an alliance, and he had done it to keep Klark safe when Onya had pulled out a knife. She also knew he had been the one in the mountain when the plans had been made to take it over. Wakuren remembered feeling a great distrust for the man.

There had just been something off about Belomi. Something about him that Wakuren just didn't trust. If Wels said that he wasn't to be trusted, she believed him.

As for Leksa? Wakuren was suspicious of anyone in power who had gotten it while fighting against fellow children. True, that was their tradition, but who was to say it was right in the first place? Wakuren, like all of the people of the tribes knew that their culture, that their way of life wasn't always so. Their leaders were not always picked in the way the conclave had taken place. The first Heda, a woman, Jurna, had killed until she gained power. It was her successor, her "Seken," Torsten, a man who had decided on how the new leaders were to be chosen. He had been the one to create the Conclave. Jurna had been against it, but she had died in the wars before it could be decided.

So Torsten had made the choice as soon as his superior was dead. And so the conclave was born that day. The first conclave. He had the first set of children fight against each other when he reached his deathbed after a strong loss of blood. He was near death when he appointed his teacher of the children. His advisor. Every Heda had an advisor. Leksa had Titus. Back then, the first advisor, appointed by Torsten was named Benner. And he had taught the children in his care to eventually kill each other for the place of the new Heda.

After the first sacrificial slaughter, the new Heda had come out to be a young girl. Named Norna. She had provided the new land to the other tribes. And the culture they knew now had formed.

But Wakuren had always been suspicious of this means of picking leaders. How could you be certain that a good killer would necessarily be a good leader? Just because one was an skilled warrior, didn't mean they would be a leader. While Norna had been a fair leader, Wakuren knew from history that not all of the Hedas could have such fairness said of them.

Especially not the Heda before Ahan kom Sankru. A Boudalan woman who had not stopped the rapes or the killing of children. And now there was Leksa kom Trikru.

Wakuren was never one to be judgmental, but Leksa as she had observed, was not a good leader. She was a good warrior and she was devoted to her people. But that did not immediately make her a good leader. A leader could make a bad choice every now and then, but when there were many bad choices, there was a problem. Especially if they decided to throw away the chance to destroy a longtime enemy like the Mountain Men.

Leksa had been presented with the chance to wipe out those that terrorized their people for almost a hundred years now. She instead, ran away. Wakuren knew she was not the only one who had doubts about Leksa's right to rule. But that wasn't what intrigued her about what she had heard down below.

Wakuren smiled fondly, walking across the deck, uncaring for Leksa's presence, speaking with Kint. She thought of Wels and Klark kom Skaikru. Those two…she remembered Klark and Wels both in Polis and in Ton DC and on their charge to the mountain. This one thing wasn't known to either Onya, nor to Leksa, but Wakuren had gone back to the mountain that day, when Leksa had ordered the retreat. She had gone back because she had wanted to help Klark and Wels. She had wanted the Mountain Men dead, yes. But her true goal at the time was to make sure the two young warriors and leaders who she thought of as the closest she might have to children after her sons' deaths were safe.

It was Wels and Klark who had caused Wakuren to feel something she hadn't felt in ages. It was something she had buried deep inside herself after her sons' murders. It was desire to protect her children. When she had seen Klark, Wels and the other Skaikru leave the mountain, Linkin with them, she had left before they could see her. She had known what them coming out alive and walking meant. And she knew what it meant when she saw no Mountain Men follow them.

Klark, Wels and their people had come out victorious. And the present Heda had made an enemy out of them. And the Skaikru had destroyed the tribes' lifelong enemy. Wakuren knew that it would be wise to leave. And she had. Had she known that Klark was going to leave her people, she would have stayed longer, and made sure that the young blonde girl was alright. Wels was with his people when she had last seen him and she had not heard of him leaving his people like she had Klark. So she had known he was safe. But Klark? Klark had left and Wakuren hadn't known where she was until now. It was agonizing to know that seven months had gone by and in six of those seven months, Klark had been with the Azgeda and Wakuren had never known.

Klark had been in the hands of butchers and murderers and Wakuren had never even known that her child had been in danger.

When she had heard, she almost went on a rampage. It had taken ten guards to stop her from storming out of Polis and doing to the Azgeda what she had done to the Ingranrona.

She had lost two sons. She didn't plan on losing her daughter. Or her other son. She knew that Wels and Klark, they perhaps did not see her as she saw them. She knew to expect this and only felt somewhat sad. It was alright. It would take time for her to get herself into their lives. But she planned to. And Wels? He was the closest now. She would approach him first. It was the logical thing to do. The conversation that she had listened in on convinced her. Wels's planning, its ruthlessness and his desire to protect those closest to him, even at the cost of looking like a monster, it was exactly what she might have wished her own sons to grow into.

And Klark was the same. They were children Wakuren wished belonged to her. And far stronger than her Heda.

Wakuren was not a revolutionary. She was not one to begin a rebellion. There was no desire for change behind her reasons for wishing to claim Wels and Klark as her son and daughter. No. She merely wanted to be by the sides of those she considered her children. She abandoned her sons once. It had led to their deaths. She had abandoned Klark and Wels once, and it led to Klark leaving her people and being taken by the Azgeda. She wasn't about to abandon either of them again. She thought about her sister Salayne, her homon and their children. Her sister had a life and was hoping her sister would find someone to love again. Wakuren knew her sister had meant a lover. Wakuren had had various lovers. Men and women alike. Mostly women.

But, just as Salayne had wished, Wakuren _had_ found her true love. But when she found her true love, it hadn't come in the form of a sexual partner. It had come in the form of two youths that while hadn't filled the void that was left in her heart after her sons' deaths, Hural and Manio, but had instead accompanied her two sons amongst the children she considered hers.

What she had heard down below hadn't made Wakuren consider Wels any less her son. If anything, it had done the opposite. If this was what he was willing to do to protect the ones he loved and for potential peace, then she was proud of him. This was exactly the way a leader was supposed to be. This was who she had hoped her blood sons had grown to be.

Wakuren cocked her head to the side, seeing the Skaikru woman, Abi speaking with Reivon above deck, next to the wall of the ship looking over the ocean. Wakuren narrowed her dark blue-green eyes at the blonde woman. Abi, did she even understand the meaning of the word "nomon?" Mother? The foolish woman had thrown her own child into that ship with the other youths that landed in Trikru territory. Youths that Abi knew nothing about. What if those other youths had decided to hurt or kill Klark? What if those youths, many of them from what Wakuren had learned, were boys, had tried to force themselves on Klark? And Wels had been allowed to take the blame for what happened to Klark's nontu. Her father. Jayke. Wakuren stared at Abi, her judgment of the woman unstoppable.

The woman had endangered two children, let Wels take the blame and did nothing while Klark was shipped down to Earth, a place where Abi thought was not survivable. And she had killed her own homon. She might not have ordered Jayke's death. But she got him killed. She took someone that Klark loved away from her. That was enough reason for Wakuren to want to kill the other woman. Even without thinking about Abi leaving Wels and Klark in that ship with the other "delinquents" and leaving them to Earth, all to help herself and her leader, Thelownyus. Then there was what Wakuren had witnessed in Ton DC when Abi tried to manipulate Klark out of power. She had even used Wels to try to talk to Klark, to do it. The woman was a coward and worthless. The woman was unworthy of having a child like Klark. But it only furthered Wakuren's decision. Wels, Klark, the two of them were practically orphans. Full-grown or not, they might as well be orphans.

Wels's father was unsuited to have a child. Wels's mother was dead, from what Wels had said in Polis. Klark's father was dead. Klark's mother was unsuited to have a child.

Wakuren nodded in acceptance, smirking at Abi's back. When she and Wels were alone, she would begin her pursuit. She would ask Wels to think on the possibility of allowing her to take him and Klark in as her children. It wasn't unheard of for full-grown orphans to be taken in by other and older full-grown warriors. Wakuren had seen it before. Any purposes besides truly wanting to be the orphan or abused youth's mother or father, like sexual purposes were deemed unrepentant and were punished severely. It was the same with Foses and their Sekens. Any sexual activity between them were to be punished severely. A teacher was not to take advantage of their student and a mother and father were never to take advantage of their children, including adopted children, no matter what the age.

Wakuren's feelings were purely that of a mother towards two children. Two children who had been deprived horribly of love and support. Neither of their authority had been supported by Abi, nor had they given the comfort they needed by Abi or Thelownyus when the two Sky People had come down and seen their children.

Wakuren, gave Abi a side-eyed stare, still smirking. Abi and Thelownyus had done their damage. Now they could watch as they lost their children to someone who would be a true nomon to them. They threw both their children away. Now she would be repairing the damage. She would wait for the right time to approach and ask Wels. As for the plot that Wels had passed onto Onya? Wakuren was now a willing part of it.

She smirked, hands ghosting over the hilts of her blades. Should this man, Belomi threaten either of her children, ever? She would skin him alive herself. She'd like to think that she inspired some of the Azgeda to do what they did when they had heard of her monstrous acts towards the Ingranrona. If this man meant any harm to Wels or Klark or made their lives harder, she would butcher him herself. She would keep her chosen children safe.

As for the village, Deyorele? Wakuren sighed, thinking about it. What had Heda and Onya been thinking, using that village against them? If they had ever wanted Klark to trust them, they should have told Klark as soon as they got into a relationship with her. Wakuren found a smirk on her lips. That was _their_ mistake and her advantage. They would not tell Wels or Klark about the village. But _she_ would. When she confronted Wels soon enough, she would tell him about Deyorele. She would give her son reason to trust her, and soon enough her daughter, Klark too.

 **Six Months and two weeks ago**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

 _A bear. A fucking bear. And it was headed right for David who was scrambling right up the hill in a frantic, but slowing pace. Going uphill was as one might predict, much harder than going downhill. Especially when one had a whatever hundred pound fucking bear chasing after them._

 _Above the hill, right at the edge, Casey, Parker, Bobbi, Mario and Jesse pushed at the rock with all their might. Bobbi, Jesse, Parker and Mario with their bodies and Casey with the stick, trying to loosen the grip the earth had on the boulder. Gradually, the rock began to slide out of the hold that the ground had on it. Casey pushed to the point that she was really surprised that the stick didn't break. All four of the others below her put all their body weight into pushing the rock._

 _There was a low crunching noise and the rock was suddenly dislodged from the grasp of the ground, rolling from the hole where it had once been. Casey almost toppled down the hill with it, but steadied her feet in time. Bobbi, Parker, Mario and Jesse almost dropped down the hill with her, but them being closer to the ground meant they could grab ahold of the roots and grass and smaller rocks, unlike Casey, which they did and so they were saved from dropping down._

 _As they steadied themselves and the rock went descending down the hill towards David and the bear, Jesse yelled down at David, "David! Get out of the way! Look up! A rock's about to drop down on it."_

 _David's head snapped up and his eyes widened when he saw the oncoming boulder. He yelped and jumped out of the way, landing on his side to the right, wincing on landing. The bear growled, startled by David's sudden movement. Its head swung around when the boulder coming down made a deafening rumbling noise. The bear only was allowed a second of a startled growl before it was hit by the boulder, moving fast. It wasn't even able to swing its upper body to the left to run when the boulder went smack into its side._

 _The bear let loose a pained roar as the boulder collided with its insides and bones. The bear was thrown back down the hill, blood shooting out of its gaping mouth for a second, and the beast was shoved back, a track of drag marks left in its wake, along with the imprints of the ground where the rock had hit._

 _David rolled over onto his rear, staring at the bear crippled with pain and weak. His heart beat, watching the rock roll away past the bear. The bear almost dropped down on the ground, but its front legs kept its massive body up. Its head hung down, blood pouring out of its jaws._

 _From above, Bobbi, Parker, Mario, Jesse and Casey watched, shocked. None of them could quite believe that that had worked. How the fuck had that even worked? But sure enough, the bear started dragging itself away from them, still bleeding from the inside, dragging itself towards the woods._

 _From where she stood, Casey stared at the bear, the shock beginning to wane. Firstly, besides the fact that she couldn't believe that they had actually managed to push that big ass boulder loose from the ground and actually had succeeded in injuring a giant bear that had been about to rip David apart, pity began to slide into her chest. The poor thing. Casey watched the bear drag itself off. Secondly, she felt kind of like kicking herself. The damn bear had just tried to eat them. It was a good thing it was injured, so that it couldn't attack again._

 _Still, a part of her felt sympathy, absolute sympathy for the animal. The large beast had started to disappear into the woods and Casey made up her mind. She doubted that the bear would be able to ever live healthily again. It would be kinder to kill it now before it could suffer longer._

 _She looked at everyone else, making sure they were all okay. Aside from Bobbi, Jesse, Parker and Mario gripping the edge of the hill for dear life, panting, stunned that that worked and David on his ass, pale as death, they all looked okay more or less._

 _Casey looked around the ground for anything she could use. Any really heavy rock or anything sharp._

 _She then remembered that they had taken along the switchblade from the ship to cut away some plants or to use in self-defense. "Guys," She said, "We have the knife from the ship, right?" Parker and the others looked at her, startled. "Yeah." Jesse nodded. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, holding her right arm out for Casey to take the other end of the folded up blade._

 _Casey smiled, holding the stick in her left hand and grabbing the end of the knife with her right hand. When she took the knife from Jesse, Casey looked up ahead at the forest. She sucked up a breath, not sure what she was doing. She wouldn't endanger the others, but she couldn't just stand back while the bear was going to die slowly. She bolted down the hill swiftly, ignoring Parker yelling after her, "What the-? Casey, what are you doing?!"_

 _Casey bolted down the hill and past the stunned David, along the ground, after the bear, heading to the forest. She heard the others calling out after her, but she didn't care._

 _Her parents were dead. She had no other family. She was okay with risking herself if it meant that something else or someone else didn't suffer slowly. The sunlight bled through the branches and the trees, the light shining down on the bear's back as she approached it. She must have been making a racket while she approached it, because the bear turned its big head, its mouth still full of dark red blood. Casey's heart raced. Her sympathy for the moment, mixed with icy fear, seeing those rows of sharp fangs aimed in her direction again._

 _She wasn't sure which she feared more. The mouth full of teeth or the massive claws._

" _Okay, big guy." Casey said, voice gentle, slowly flipping the blade of the knife up. "It's alright. It's going to be okay. She gripped the stick close. She wanted to make sure the bear didn't suffer anymore, but she definitely didn't want those teeth around her throat or head either._

 _Casey knew that she probably wouldn't get another chance, so she acted fast. She bolted over. She smacked the bear across the nose with the stick, distracting the animal. While the bear growled, trying to get at her with its claws, she turned around, to get to the left side of the beast's neck, she slammed her right arm forward, blade of the knife up. The end of the blade sliced into the bear's throat, blood spurting out of the muscled throat, as the hilt of the knife was flush against the wound that Casey made._

 _The blade was fully in and the bear's jaws halted before they could clamp around Casey's left arm. The beast let loose another agonized roar, Casey's heart hurting at the sound. She hadn't thought that the rock would hurt the bear that much. But when she had seen the blood spill out of the bear's mouth like a waterfall, she knew very differently. Bleeding internally. Nothing survived that without advanced medicine and technology. And they had none of those things here. So the only option left was the third option._

 _A quick and less painful death._

 _Casey knew she had to get away from the bear and fast. She pulled the knife out of the bear's neck and jumped away fast. She stumbled backwards, almost tripping on some shrubs, but gaining ground so that she didn't. She wildly kept the end of the stick against the ground so that she didn't fall, the most important reminder in the back of her brain that she'd be in deep shit if she fell and the bear was still mobile._

 _The bear lurched forward and Casey kept stepping back, heart jumping in her throat with each of the bear's steps. Then the bear froze, blood spitting out a few more times and it dropped onto its side, a big gout of blood popped out of the bear's maw, splattering all over the ground, some of it spitting out onto Casey's sneakers. Casey hissed, feeling sick at the sight. The bear's dark eyes rolled up at her, staring. Casey knew that bears probably couldn't comprehend the same information by far that humans could, but it surely knew that_ _she_ _had been the one that was causing it this pain right now._

 _Casey's heart hurt as she saw the light slowly fade from the bear's eyes. "I'm sorry." She whispered, feeling pain seep into her, trying to fight the need to cry. "I'm so sorry."_

 _The bear had tried to kill David. But it was just an animal. It was just doing what was normal for predators. Hunting for food. It was just doing what it needed to do to survive. And it ended up getting killed in doing so._

 _Casey winced, trying not to see a comparison between her and the others and this bear. What would they have to do to survive? And would they get killed for it?_

 _There were crackling and snapping of twigs and she turned around, clutching the bloodstained knife tightly when she looked. She breathed out in relief when she saw David, Jesse, Parker, Mario and Bobbi running over. Most of them gasped and stared down at the bear when they saw what Casey had done._

" _Holy shit." David said, staring down at the now deceased, large animal._

" _You killed it?" Parker asked, stunned. She looked at Casey and Casey was startled when she saw the anger in the other girl's eyes. "Why did you kill it? It was running away. You didn't have to kill it. What? Do you just_ _enjoy_ _killing things?" Casey glared at the other girl, feeling awful, but refusing to be called a sadist. "And what would you have done, Parker?" She snapped. "Let the bear slowly die from bleeding internally? It was dying already. And it would have died much more slowly and painfully if I hadn't stabbed it in the neck. Is that what you wanted? I know you're bad tempered, Parker, but I didn't think you were cruel."_

 _Casey's words had their effect. Parker looked like she had been struck. She stared at Casey like the other girl had just told her that she could eat shit and die. Casey shook her head, looking down at the blood coated blade in her hand, the remorse never leaving her. God, she wished she hadn't killed the poor bear. But she had. Poor thing. Casey slowly lowered herself to the ground, letting go of the stick and letting it drop onto the ground. She stared down at the bear. Her left hand reached out gently and she softly stroked her palm against the top of its head. It was still warm. The fur was startling. She had thought it would be rough. But it wasn't. It was soft. Like a cat's pelt of fur. She stroked the top of the skull of the bear._

 _She stared at it with unwavering sadness. "I'm so sorry." She repeated to it, unable to keep the pain out of her voice this time. A bear. A big, freaking bear. The first mammal on the ground, the first real any kind of animal she had seen on the ground._

 _And she had killed it. This magnificent animal._

" _It's alright, Casey." Jesse's reassuring voice hit Casey's ears. "It was going to kill David. We didn't have a choice. And you just did the kindest thing out of all of us." Casey nodded. "I know. I know. I just feel horrible."_

" _What's there to feel horrible about?" David asked, snorting after a long moment's pause. "That thing was trying to eat us. We're alive. It's dead. Far as I'm concerned, I'll say that's a good thing all around." Casey turned her attention on David, glaring at the large boy now, eyes burning. David stepped back at the strength in her glare. "We might not have had to kill it if you hadn't approached it." Casey said with acid in her voice. "Bears have been known to attack humans. But usually not until provoked. You sure as hell didn't come off as being non-threatening, David. This bear might not have had to die."_

 _David looked stunned by Casey's impassioned statement and looked like he was about to say something when Bobbi interrupted putting her fingers to her mouth and blowing a harsh whistle, making everyone in the group wince and momentarily cover their ears._

 _Bobbi pulled her hand from her mouth and said, looking apologetic, "Sorry about the now broken eardrums, guys. But look, it was bad what happened with the bear. But are we all forgetting something? We need food. Meat as well as plants. Casey," Bobbi looked down at Casey, seeing the realization crossing the other girl's face, "I know you feel bad, but now we have meat. A lot of it. Maybe even enough to feed all of us." Bobbi nodded at the bear._

 _Casey's chest hurt, realizing what Bobbi meant. But she was right. They needed food. She looked down at the bear sympathetically. She didn't want to eat it. It had been through enough._

 _The next words she heard were from Jesse, and as much as it disgusted Casey, it was the last convincing she needed to go along with this. "And even if we don't eat it, something's going to eat it anyway. Maybe other carnivores. Or insects. Either way, it will eventually decay. It would be a waste. And we're all going to get hungry eventually."_

 _Casey sighed, pain in her body and not from any physical injury. She nodded, looking back at the others. She ignored how Parker was glaring at Jesse and Bobbi, as if she thought they were bad people. Parker could make all the judgments she wanted. It didn't change that Jesse and Bobbi were right. She looked down at the bear sympathetically. "Alright." She said. She brought the bloody blade up again. "How do we start? Do you guys know what parts would be good? Or more edible than the others?"_

 _From a distance, Flynt kom Azgeda stood enough from the woods to not be seen, but was close enough see what had occurred. And he had seen the girl, Caysi's resourcefulness and had seen no hesitation when she had killed the bear. She had just done what she needed to do. Flynt cocked his head. Though he had a low opinion of the Sky People, except for the great Wanheda, and couldn't see what use kwin Nia could possibly have for these people, he felt a strong surge of respect for this Caysi girl. Perhaps she would prove to be more the warrior than he initially had thought. He waited patiently for the queen to send her warriors to aid him bringing these six to her kingdom, and to her dungeons._

 **Present day**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Drumbeats, deep, loud and thunderous drumbeats reverberated around the stone and bone halls as Clarke approached the arena where Emerson was tied, what was left of his arms and legs splayed out and tied, his mouth gagged so he could not show disrespect to Wanheda. Clarke went through the opening of the hall without a door. This hall had never had a door to lead outside into the arena. Just a doorway. All other entrances to the main hall had doors so there was no need. Clarke stepped out onto the cool ground, staring ahead at the bound man who stared at her with hatred in his eyes. But Clarke had seen hatred in many of the victims Nia had made her torture before.

And she knew when to recognize that the hatred was starting to burn out. She had become very masterful at recognizing when someone was broken under torture. And if it were anyone else, Clarke would have felt her heart ache. But this wasn't anyone else. This was Carl Emerson of the Mountain Men. This man had caused her more misery than almost anyone in the world besides Dante, Cage, Lexa and Anya. He had endangered her people just as much as they had and had done it all with a smirk on his face.

So she could safely say that when she saw that the spark of hatred she had come to recognize in Emerson's eyes had become reduced to a mere glint, to be replaced mostly by fear and agony and desperation, she did not feel any sympathy. In fact, the sight of his panic and desperation did something it should never have done. It made her feel elevated.

Dressed in the ceremonial white fur with red paint on her forehead red covering her hands, the lower half of her face covered with a wooden mask with bars that allowed people to see through them. It was in no way for protection. She walked slowly over. Only ceremonial purposes. She was covered from head to toe in warm, white furs, but her hands were ungloved for this purpose specifically. Luckily it wasn't so cold out. Her hands were covered with red paint for the ceremony of the Helrer. And she felt no danger of the cold in doing it.

She walked towards the tortured, stitched up and cut up man. She did looked around the stone seats of the arena surrounding her. She could see the faces of her family and friends in the audience. Cody, Kristin, Mario, Hodge, Bailey, Cameron, Beryl, Linden, Lane, Paul, Martin, Jarra, Glenn, Rora, Frank, Kozarr, Blair, Simone, Parker, Lorena, Sabine, Christopher, David, Dallas, Avery, Jesse, Casey and Bobbi were across the seats all around and so were some loyal to them. Clarke stared right up at her son's face. Farron looked down from where he sat between Mario and Glenn and Rora. Farron nodded to her. She smiled behind her mask, utterly grateful. She saw nothing but acceptance in his eyes. He could forgive her for what she was about to do and still accepted her. He had seen this done before and could accept her still, knowing what she was going to do. With that resolve, Clarke turned back to Emerson and walked closer. Clarke knew that Edmund and West would still be at Ontari's back, watching with her commence with the most brutal of executions.

Finley was watching Mathias around somewhere. Mathias was in the arena, which meant that Finley was just in the corners, watching him. Clarke and the others had fed everyone a story that Finley was off training and because those that were loyal to Ontari's army would vouch for her, people would believe it.

Clarke turned to the stone pedestal behind her, on top of the doorway of the arena. There on their thrones sat Nia and Ontari. Behind Ontari as expected, were West and Edmund.

Clarke stared up at Ontari who was leaning forward in her seat, watching, her arms on her legs, the nightblood's body hunched as she stared back at Clarke.

Clarke tried to convey silently to Ontari what she had been trying verbally to tell the other young woman all morning. _It will be okay, kran en segara. It will be okay._

Somehow, Ontari understood her and she smiled sadly, nodding, tresses of black hair swinging forward and back with Ontari's acknowledgment.

Clarke smiled. She glanced at the queen and saw that Nia noticed the silent interaction. Much to Clarke's unease, though she supposed it was a good thing in the long run, Nia was smiling. Clarke supposed that Nia was smiling because the relationship being as close as it was would be testament in Nia's mind of how she had succeeded in giving Clarke a reason to be loyal. Nia just saw her plan coming to fruition. She saw her plan moving ahead. She saw no other possibility. Nia's flaw was arrogance. She couldn't see beyond the possibility that she would win. She had no idea that the daughter she had stolen from her home years ago and made into her weapon and heir had grown into the driving force behind a rebellion. Nia had no idea that she had brought her greatest enemy into her home by taking Ontari from her parents.

Clarke turned her head away, amused at the thought. How did someone like Ontari live in this world, experiencing what she had experienced, and yet became so selfless and ready to sacrifice everything for the right thing, to save her people? How had Ontari grown to be so moralistic? With the environment she lived in, how had that happened? How had Ontari ended up being _such_ a good woman with the upbringing she had had? After all the training, the torturing, the abuse, the hate that Nia clearly had put an effort into putting into Ontari's heart, how had Ontari ended up being _so_ good?

Clarke smiled behind her mask. If she was Wanheda, the Commander of Death, Ontari _was_ the _revolution._ She was the force that would bring the queen down and bring justice to Azgeda.

Clarke looked straight at Emerson, face unreadable as she recognized the agony and terror written across his expression. He was dressed warmly, so as not to freeze to death before she sliced him apart. But despite the wicked cold, sweat poured down his face in his fear.

Clarke took a step towards him, swearing that she could hear his heart racing in his terror. Though that might have been the nonstop beating of the drums all around her on the highest stone perches of the arena, surrounding her and the audience.

Ontari...she was the partner Clarke should have found and chosen from the beginning.

But she had Ontari in her life now. And that was all that mattered.

Clarke was now only inches from Emerson. She smiled then. A cold and cruel smile. She saw Emerson flinch and stiffen against the wooden mast and the wooden beams where he and his limbs were bound and she knew that he had seen her smile through the wooden bars of her mask.

Clarke glanced at to the right of her. At the stone wall that made up the circular arena, there was a slab of bone across a patch of the snow. Stones propped up the long bone tablet. And across the bone slab were different tools. All for skinning and cutting. Clarke smirked and looked back at Emerson who had followed her gaze and was paling by the second.

"Emerson?" Clarke said, stepping yet again closer to the now shaking man, the mask never really strangely enough, straining against her cheeks or nose. "I want to tell you something. I want to thank you." As Clarke suspected, Emerson's eyes went wide and confusion was the dominant emotion besides terror in those dark eyes. Clarke chuckled, hearing the drums stopping in their beats. "I mean it, Emerson. Thank you. For showing me the real Lexa and Anya." Clarke's lips stretched back, showing off her teeth. "If not for you, then I would have gone on thinking that Lexa and Anya, the Commander and her general who you saw with me outside of the mountain, were who I was meant to be with. If not for you, I would have gone one believing that they were who I thought they were. You showed me who they really were when you made that deal with them that day."

She stepped closer to Emerson again. She could practically smell his sweat as the wind hit her head. She grinned at him. "And in doing so? You showed me who _I_ really was. You showed me that I could pull a lever and kill every last one of your people in the mountain. By arranging the deal, you got me to commit an unspeakable action. And in doing so, I fled my people and found my true home. I found my true people. And I found my true self. A warmonger. A mass murderer. A torturer." Clarke's grin widened. "Thank you for showing me who I really am Emerson." Clarke almost giggled at the horror and dread in Emerson's eyes. Deep in the black pit of her soul, Clarke felt no remorse. She was certain that one day in the future, she would come to regret this. But right now? Now she felt only amusement and delight at seeing Emerson like this. So ready to be sliced open and skinned.

Clarke didn't even look at the bone slab or the man next to it, outstretching her right arm, her hand open. She felt the weight of something meet her gloved palm. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt and pulled the object to her face, observing what it was. It looked like the guard had made a wise choice. A very specific skinning knife. This would work for a while.

Clarke looked then at Emerson's eyes, past the thin, curved, wicked blade. His eyes had grown impossibly huge and she could almost feel his tremors of horror and fear. Clarke reached her left free hand out and stroked her gloved palm against Emerson's scarred right cheek. "I'm sure you understand that I feel that I must repay your kindness in showing me who I am. What greater gift can I give you, than letting you experience the full extent of what kind of person I really am? The person you helped me realize I was." Clarke's smile grew at the man's realization and the horror that seemed overwhelming in them.

"I promise, Emerson." Clarke said, "You will not be disappointed in the monster you revealed to the world. Thank you. My old friend." Clarke brought the curved and serrated blade to Emerson's shirt and began to cut it away. Clarke pushed down the remaining shreds of agony that she felt at Ontari, her family and especially Farron watching her do this. Farron had insisted. He was going to stay here. She pleaded that if any of the gods that people believed in existed, that Farron would still trust her after he saw what she did to this man. She had to sever the last tie between her and Lexa and Anya. It was time to begin.

Without even an ounce of hesitation, she raised the blade and pressed it against the collar of Emerson's shirt to cut it away and to begin.

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Wells had finished up his training, his muscles aching anew. He had been distracted during the whole training. He knew what he had asked Anya to do was basically betrayal amongst his people. Anya would not be labeled a traitor, since they were not part of the Coalition yet. But Wells would be marked one, should this ever get back to him. And it was strange because he found that he just didn't care. So his own people would see him as a traitor? Fine. His people could see him as bad as his father for all he cared. But all that mattered in the end was that they had peace and that they were safe. They would be safer when the threats to that peace were eliminated. One of the biggest threats was inevitably the bigot and mass murderer Bellamy. That would end with his death if Wells had anything to say about it.

He knew it was a dirty act to ask Anya to do it instead of doing it himself. But Anya was strong.

She knew what needed to be done. And she was part Trikru, part Trishana, not Skaikru. She would not be committing any treason by doing this.

But Wells would be, and he knew that. He was doing what he needed to do to keep his people and Clarke, Charlotte and Raven safe. He would be snubbed, yelled at, accused, maybe even killed for it if he was ever found out. But he did not care. He would do what he needed to do. This was a war, even if it wasn't in name. And if many of the enemies were his own people, then Wells would have to weed them out. Get rid of the weak ones who weren't willing to bend the rules and comply with a possible peace in doing so. So therefore, Wells couldn't feel any real remorse for his actions.

The only thing that Wells regretted was bringing Anya into this. Sure, she would not be held accountable as long as the Skaikru stayed outside of the Coalition, but he knew he was asking a great deal from Anya. Perhaps too much. Anya didn't deserve to be dragged into this. But Wells didn't know who else he could trust. Lincoln wouldn't do it because he would never hurt Octavia like that. So Anya was his only resort. And truth be told, Wells didn't know who would win in a fight between him and Bellamy. But he knew who would win between the older man and Anya. It would end with Anya's knife covered Bellamy's murderous blood.

A kind voice interrupted Wells's troubled thoughts. "Wels kom Skaikru?" Wels almost jumped, turning around and looking at who was approaching him, almost worried that he had been found out, even though that couldn't be, considering he was sure that there had been no one down below with him and Anya when he had trusted Anya with this task.

He let loose a small breath of relief when he saw Wakuren come towards him. Wakuren was an unruly, powerful and dangerous warrior woman. All Ingranrona feared her. She was known as the Scourge of the Plains People."

But she was also defiant of the Commander and didn't trust authority in general. She only trusted those she knew well. And Wells liked to think he and Wakuren knew each other well enough to trust each other. Wakuren had never shown him any disrespect or lack of kindness. So he assumed they were fairly good in each other's eyes.

"Wakuren." He nodded to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you approach."

Wakuren shook her head, smirking, "No need to apologize, Wels. If you had heard me, then I don't believe my training would have been very efficient. I would like to speak with you, if that is alright with you." Wels cocked his head. He wasn't sure why Wakuren would need permission. But he nodded. "Sure." He said. "That's okay. What do you want to talk about?"

He faced the woman, curious. The tall, muscled woman with calloused hands that he knew, just like Anya, could kill him with only a few blows if she wished, looked at him with strangely gentle green-blue eyes. Wells was struck by something odd. Wakuren didn't have her weapons on her. Her swords, her knives. They were missing from her person. Why though? Wells's eyes scanned the woman's leather belts and the straps along both her legs. There were no weapons at all. Wakuren was not armed. She was deadly enough without them. She could snap his neck like a brittle stick if she wanted, but he could never recall a time when she had been without her blades. Her dark brown hair hung long past her shoulders as she nodded to the ship's cabin next to them, gouged out into the wooden bulge of the ship's deck. "I would like to speak with you in private." Wakuren added, glancing around at the many different groups of warriors training around the deck and the seated Skaikru speaking to each other and other warriors. "There are too many people up here for my liking."

She looked at Wels straight in the eye, and though her words perhaps should have been a warning enough, the way she was looking at him told him that she needed to speak with him urgently.

Wells sighed. He didn't believe that she meant any harm. She never had before. And besides, even if she did, there was nothing she could do here unless she wanted people to know that she had been the last person with him.

He nodded and turned the metal lever on the door, opening the wooden door to the small cabin. The cabin was for the many different rations in sacks that had been pushed against the wooden walls. Sacks of turnips, beets, barrels of salted meat and barrels of water lined the walls. The cabin was so small that any person that was there, Wells and Wakuren would have seen, thanks to the four candles lining the walls. They weren't lit yet, for fear that the supplies and the ship would burn, should the candles' fire be left alone. But they would be soon.

Wakuren kept the door open with a booted foot and grabbed the long match next to the door, striking it against the wall, lighting the match and she one by one, lit each candle before blowing out the flame crowning the match's head. She tossed the extinguished match out of the cabin, onto the deck and walked into the room, the room now illuminated with a warm orange glow. She closed the door behind her and looked around the room. Wells knew she was looking for anyone that might be in here who might listen in on them.

Wells looked around too. He saw no one. So if they wanted to speak freely, they could. Because this place was way too small for anyone that wasn't Wells or Wakuren to go on unnoticed. And the door was thick. So the two of them could speak in private without others interfering. He turned to Wakuren. "What is it? You wanted to talk, right? About what?"

Wakuren nodded, caution softening from her eyes, her mane of dark brown hair swishing around her broad shoulders. Wells was startled by how soft the woman's eyes appeared as she regarded him. The woman slowly lowered herself to sitting on one of the shelves, next to the lanterns and some sacks of salt. She kept her hands on her lap where Wells could see them. She nodded to him. "Wels, there's a matter I would like to discuss with you. It's important, and it's alright if you are hesitant or do not accept. But I would like to tell you something." Wells narrowed his eyes. What was going on here? Sitting down like that, not carrying any weapons, her hands in her lap. It was almost like she was trying to make a _conscious effort_ to come off as non-threatening as possible.

Wells nodded. "Okay," He said, unsure of what Wakuren wanted to say. "What is it you wanted to talk about?" Wakuren tried not to smirk. She didn't want to startle her son. If she told him about Deyorele, it would cause him to trust her more. You couldn't love someone without trusting them fully. And she would give him plenty of reason to trust her by telling him the truth.

 **Author's note:**

 **So for those sick enough to ask me ever again at all if Lexa and Anya are together even though Anya basically raised Lexa, I established in this chapter that any teacher or adopted parent taking advantage of their student or child in such a way are punished horribly. Funny how you don't think that's how it should be. Funny how you'll excuse anyone taking advantage of someone underage, whether they're Bellamy, Anya, or a random character that you find attractive. I guess that explains why so many people don't think of Bellamy as a rapist. Never mind that he takes advantage of the underage girls that trust him when he's in a position of power when they get down to Earth. Yeah, sure, sleeping with underage girls isn't pedophilia.**

 **So here's an idea, pedophiles, stop talking. I'm not interested what you do on the Dark Web for kicks. I find it sick. And don't fucking even think about bringing up it being legal for an adult to have relationships with young kids in some countries. Child abuse is child abuse, no matter whether it's legal or not. Like I said, go back to your little disgusting hole, pedophiles. Let me know how your conquests in child grooming are going, and I'll prepare to vomit. Sorry, I forgot you were into times when teachers could rape their students or an adult could have sex with a child in return for lessons. Which is basically rape, get over it.**

 **Next chapter, needless to say, is going to be a gruesome one. I'm going to be going into as graphic detail as I can. So those that are triggered by very graphic violence, either prepare yourselves or skip the 24** **th** **chapter altogether.**


	24. The Beginning: Justice will be done

**ClaireR89 : Another thing, when you said that Bellboy didn't have a "rapist vibe," what the heck do you mean by that? Sorry, does everyone you know operate by cartoon logic? No one walks around with a convenient, neon sign above their head saying, "hi, I'm a rapist." If it were like that, then we wouldn't have to worry so much. I'm sure you have a very nice fluffy image of how to differentiate between a rapist and a non-rapist. But it doesn't exist. There's no sure way of telling, until someone tries it. Rolls eyes. Doesn't have a "rapist vibe," are you kidding me?**

 **Well, I'm sure Ted Bundy didn't either. Your point? Seriously, where do people keep getting this cartoon logic from? Not all rapists have a rapist "vibe." Doesn't change at the end of the day, a rapist is a rapist. Tell me, did you get the feeling that Brock Turner didn't have a rapist vibe too after the facts came out? How about R. Kelly? Hey, I guess ignoring that he starved girls and raped them really doesn't matter so long as you don't get the great and powerful "vibe" from that person, right? Seriously, get some common sense. Or at least some dignity.**

 **A reference to Buffy the Vampire Slayer-"Must be Tuesday" is going to be said by Wells Jaha-"Must be Wednesday."**

 **Aeons Melody :** **Oh, thank you so much. I try-despite all the ranting. So glad to hear you're liking the fic.**

 **Trigger warnings for very graphic violence in this chapter-a human being actually being skinned-and mention of severe violence in the past and a violent capture. Again, severe warning for a graphic skinning scene.**

 **Boy, this chapter was difficult. I really,** _ **really**_ **didn't want to write the skinning scene. Because blah.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 24: The Beginning Part 4: Justice will be done:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke only wore the lower half of the traditional wooden mask. Had she worn all of it, her task might have been a little different since there had just been bars of the mask to allow the wearer to see through. But the lower half covered her mouth, nose, chin and cheeks, so it did what it was used for.

Slicing away the front of Emerson's shirt was no different from cutting a piece of thin paper in half with sharp scissors. His filthy, ragged, dark shirt dropped down into snow at his and Clarke's feet, leaving only his bare chest and his bare shoulders and arms in front of her. Clarke smiled almost pleasantly at Emerson when his shirt hit the ground and she wondered if he could see the smile through the mask. He whimpered quietly as she brought the knife to his left arm, the blade hovering above it. "Tell me, Emerson," Clarke said to the bound man knowing that because there were spaces between the bars of the mask, he would hear her, "Have you ever considered what would have happened if the Commander caught you instead of the Ice Queen? I imagine she would have killed you more quickly. After all, the two of you _are_ such good friends, aren't you?"

As soon as she was done saying that, Clarke sliced her blade down Emerson's arm. He reared his head back, slamming it into the wooden post. Clarke looked down at the mark she made. The first slash was so slight that if it weren't for the now coppery scent that filled Clarke's nose, the dark red liquid that dripped from the slash in Emerson's arm and the piece of blood smeared flesh that was now hanging from Emerson's arm, Clarke might not have even believed that she had slashed him.

She leaned forward, free, left hand balling up, index finger sticking out and pressing into Emerson's slash wound, pressing right into the exposed muscle and dug into it. Emerson threw his head back again and let loose a muffled scream, eyes squeezed shut. Clarke felt the warm muscle around her, then pulled her finger away, the tip covered in blood. She sliced the blade of her knife forward slashing a piece of flesh off of Emerson's bare chest. One of Emerson's breasts had already been cut from him. Her slice went for the one uncut and in no way bruised. She slashed right down the flat pad of fat, the slash cutting down and slicing off part of it, including his nipple. Emerson reared back, scream muffled, but so long and loud that it sounded like it was going to rip right through the gag in his mouth and sail through the air.

Clarke pulled the blade back, watching as the hunk of flesh hung from Emerson's chest, shreds of it dripping with blood, his chest muscles twitching and dark red, blue veins exposed, untouched by the sharp blade. The bound man heaved his breath in and out, the effort most likely exhausting for him.

Clarke chuckled, "I wonder, just how much do the gods or how much does fate hate you that it allowed you to end up here, with us, with queen Nia, with _me_ than being killed quickly by the Commander? I mean, sure maybe she'd give you the death of a thousand cuts. But hey, at least she'll burn your body. Us? We're going to feed your body to the dogs or leave it to rot."

Clarke then smirked and added her last piece. "Don't worry." She said, "I won't waste anymore of this foreplay. I'll get right to the good part." Clarke blamed her hanging out with Mario, Finley, David and Kristin for that particular comment, but it wasn't too bad one for torture if she had to put her opinion in. She brought the knife she had used first back over to the table and put it back down on the slab of stone. She scooped up the skinning knife by the handle. Time to get to business, wasn't it?

She smirked at Emerson as he shifted his head just enough for his eyes to bulge out at her with pain, agony and anger. "Are you ready, Emerson?" Clarke sneered. She didn't await any growl, glare or scream, just walked over to him, kneeled and brought the knife right over to the back of his right leg, the blade just hovering over the flesh. "Time to suffer for REAL, Emerson." Clarke mocked, even though she knew that Emerson had suffered enough in all the ways that mattered.

But it sure as hell didn't matter _now_ did it? He was here, ready for flaying, and she was here, ready to slice him apart. So it hardly mattered how much he had already been cut, did it?

She slowly and ever so surely, sliced the blade down into the flesh, cutting away at the skin of his foot, right at the heel. Ignoring the agonized moans of pain above her, Clarke sliced into the skin of the foot, slicing around the heel and under the foot. Slowly, morbidly, Clarke thought, like peeling an orange, she slid the flesh of the strapped down foot up, off the piece of meat that was the now exposed and veiny, red foot. She sliced upwards now, slicing more and more up the leg. She cut up the fleshy leg, peeling back the pale skin from the meat. The slices of skin were pulled back, the hot blood of Emerson on her fingers as her left hand grabbed the slices of skin, pulling them back from his leg's meat and bone. His skin on the side where it was blood covered, was warm to the touch. Why shouldn't it be? It had just come off of a very warm and blood filled body.

The large flap of flayed, white skin, attached to the flopping bloody skin of the foot sagged in Clarke's grasp as she sliced the blade upwards, slicing away more of the skin, up the back of the knee, up the thigh. Clarke heard the increased muffled screams of utter pain.

Clarke, for once, during all this, felt the guilt, the remorse and the painful reminder of what she had already done to Emerson fire away in her brain. Her stomach turned, knowing how utterly inhuman she was. She kept cutting with grim resolve and even with the strength of some grim salvation. Yes, she _was_ inhuman. So was Emerson. So were the Azgeda. She was just doing to him what he would have done to the people she loved one day. This was simply a long overdue execution, that just happened to be as long and as brutal as it was for necessity purposes. Because there would be no other way that Nia would have allowed her to kill Emerson this soon without a reasonable explanation, like the one she had given.

She pushed those thoughts away, beating down her remorse, her pain over what she was doing to another human being, her guilt, her shame and she kept it under her resolve and knowing that the rewards for doing this, would be so much greater than if she didn't. Because by doing this? She was not only giving Emerson the agony he deserved, she was freeing herself, _and_ her family of him. And she was severing the last tie between her and Lexa and Anya.

This wasn't just something that had to be done. It was something Clarke realized, despite how much pain it was causing her, that it was something she actually, genuinely _wanted_ to do this. To be free of him. To be free of Anya and Lexa. And she would be. She sliced her way up Emerson's thigh, turning the knife so that the layer of flesh was peeled off Emerson's entire leg. Clarke's ears were filled with the long river of Emerson's agonized moan, along with the chorus of cheering onlookers. Clarke's chest hurt, knowing Farron was watching. He was watching her _do_ this. Her little boy and all the children she and the twenty-six had taken in were seeing her do this.

Clarke cringed, and it wasn't because of the grotesque sound of the flesh being peeled back from the leg or the blood leaking leg slapping wetly against the post where Emerson was held captive. The bare, skinned, dark red, vein covered leg slapped down against the post with a sickening sound, but Clarke didn't even react to that. She cut the knife up just further against the skin, cutting down just a little harder than if she had to cut into paper. The skin went back far easier than the furs of animals that she had been taught to skin to get to the meat during her time in Polis and here in Azgeda.

No, what broke her heart and made it fall even further into the pit of her stomach was knowing that Farron was watching her _do_ this. But Clarke knew she couldn't think about that. Not right now. Using her left arm, she folded up the gruesome, blood covered flaps of skin that had once been attached to Emerson's foot and leg and part of his thigh and held it up on to her left arm, just above her left shoulder, twisting her arm up slightly so that her right hand rode the knife further up Emerson's body. She knew she had hit his buttocks when she felt a large, fleshy protrusion up against the blade, just above the man's left upper thigh.

Aware of where she was and what body part she was next to, she was well aware of what was pressing against the strap, obscuring her view. She smirked up at Emerson as he clenched his eyes in pain. "Don't worry, Emerson." She said calmly. "Your ass, your cock and your balls are going to join the rest of your skin. Don't worry about it. I certainly won't deprive your of your precious dick-your body sure doesn't need it. After all, I don't think your wife, Anna's going to be able to do anything sexual with you anymore."

Only then did Emerson break out of his haze of utter pain. His eyes opened and he glared down at Clarke. She just grinned up at him. She looked at the post where her blade was just below Emerson's buttocks and cut up. The resistance against her blade wasn't much. For the skin was already almost halfway off. But with the bulge that was Emerson's rear, it still made the task fairly laborious. Clarke smirked and pulled the knife away, reevaluating her next move. Her eyes traveled up the stripped, meaty legs at where the strap was covering his genitals. Clarke was sure that her hamming this up with Emerson's most likely personal part of Emerson's body not being cut away yet. For Nia, this would be Wanheda showing how vicious she could be. But as Clarke stepped back, feeling warm stickiness against her hands and against her left cheek, she watched Emerson writhe and moan in his agony.

No, that wasn't the reason why. She wasn't trying to prolong his agony. Not really. She was hesitating, because she knew how much of a personal attack it would be to part his manhood last from his body. So she had been putting off going for _that_ particular area of the body. Still, wasn't it better to get it over with? For the both of them?

Even if that last part really didn't make much of a difference for Emerson-he was going to die in a horrifying manner either way, that was the thought that did it for Clarke. She sucked in a breath and inched closer, crouching down, reaching up with the knife and slicing away the thin fabric of Emerson's pants. She snarled at one of the guards as she disposed of Emerson's pants, cutting them off bit by bit, "Remove the strap around his waist, now! I need access."

She heard the crunching of the snow around her, alerting her to the guards doing as she instructed. She saw two shadows spill over her and heard the unbinding of a leather strap. Emerson was bound to the post by four other straps. Ones around each of his arms, one around his middle, right above his waist and one at his neck. So she had no need to worry that he might try to jump off. Even if he did, the skin of his legs had been flayed away. He would be in far too much pain to get far.

The strap was away, and she now had access to Emerson's waist and thighs and the rest. She ordered the guards to hold Emerson's legs still so that he didn't kick her. They answered her obediently and held Emerson's lower body in place. Clarke ignored the urge to wince in disgust as she watched the guards restrain Emerson's skinned legs and his not yet skinned lower body. She felt the weight of the knife in her hand and heard the groans of continued agony from Emerson. No way she could hold back now. Not just because she had access to that part of his body now, but any hesitance would bring suspicion from the queen.

Better get this over with so that he didn't have to suffer _that_ particular indignity long.

Clarke went forward, deciding to be as quick about this as she could be, slashing away the base of Emerson's pants around his lower torso, leaving him bare now. She glanced up only once and watched how the man somehow paled even more, realizing what he was about to lose. Clarke sliced further up his leg, cutting away the skin, and reached the flesh of his thigh and waist. She let loose a small sigh and braced herself. It would be agony for him. But only prolonged agony if she took her time. She just had to get it over with.

Hesitating no longer, she swiped the razor sharp edge of her blade upwards, cutting into the skin of his outer thigh, slicing up from the long cut she had already made and sliced around his waist, then sliced just above his waistline, and started to cut down, slicing the blade right between the skin and the meat.

In seconds, despite the horrendous moaning above her that made it feel like it was almost a century, she sliced away the skin of Emerson's waist, down to his thighs and cut between the meat and skin still, she slid the blade ever down, sliding the blade right down to where she wanted it to go. And now came the messy, horrible part-well, more horrible than it already was. She twisted her wrist violently and watched as the flap of skin, genitals and all slowly come peeling off the meat of Emerson's pelvic region. She cut away a few more times, slicing away at any skin or sticky blood tethers that might still be keeping the flesh on. Soon the layer of flesh, _with_ ((

Now she had less reason to hold back. What one would usually deem the most personal part of their body was gone. She could cut up into the rest of him with a somewhat stronger resolve. She leaned down and reached around him. She sliced the skin at the very end of his rear, using her knuckles to peel away some of the cut off flap, she let the flap lay against her knuckles and rose her hand up, bringing the blade further up along Emerson's backside, her knuckles still being used to hold the skin on her arm and rise the blade up.

Clarke only let the rest of the flap of skin rest on her back. Emerson's skin-his feet's skin, his ankle's skin, his leg's skin, she rested all of it on her left shoulder, allowing the warm, cut away mass to hang from her back. She felt the warm, sticky blood clasp to her fur covered back, but paid no mind. No one said that skinning someone _wasn't_ going to be messy. With both her hands free now, Clarke grabbed the flesh of Emerson's rear and pulled up, cutting up as well. She did the same to Emerson's other ass cheek. Clarke cocked her head at the two bloody mounds of vein-covered meat in front of her. She had to admit, she wasn't expecting to feel this much apathy over doing this to another human being-if only after she had gotten the most personal part over with. Even if it _was_ Emerson. She gathered the two flesh flaps together in her left hand, cutting up along skin that was covering Emerson's tailbone and peeled away the flesh, going up his back.

Clarke gripped the strips of flesh and cut upwards, ignoring the continual screams of agony muffled by Emerson's gag. She rested her left elbow against Emerson's now skinless waist, not caring that her elbow would be completely covered in blood. She gripped the flesh still, and cut up the man's back, slicing at his back, up along his spine, cutting, ignoring the cries, ignoring the spats of blood dripping as she cut the back skin away from the meat. She watched as a blue tube with branches going off on top of it hung from Emerson's back, blood leaking out in a river. She frowned. The desired requirement was that the victim of the Helrer was to have their veins untouched so that their death would be as slow and as agonizing as possible. So he was losing blood. Oh well. She knew that she could be forgiven for this. As she knew how long it took for someone to die from blood loss and how much blood it took.

She would be done cutting his skin off before he bled to death.

Cutting across the width of Emerson's skin, from the left side of his waist to his right, she freed the flesh from Emerson's back. She slid the blade beneath the back's skin, cutting it free. Grabbing the end of the flap, she pulled up. She stood up slowly when it became clear that the skin of Emerson's back was no longer anchored down. She lifted the flap all the way up, cutting away gradually, eventually coming to Emerson's back's end at his shoulders.

She stood side by side him. carving away the flesh on his right shoulder, slicing the skin off from the shoulder's arch. Just beneath the meaty, veiny veil, Clarke could see the end of Emerson's acromion-the end of his collarbone. She worked to pull the shoulder's flesh over the front of Emerson's shoulder, slicing away, carefully scraping over the meat that separated her knife and Emerson's coracoid process. She felt Emerson stiffen up and buck off the post, but she ignored his struggles. When she was done skinning Emerson on his left side, she moved to his right side, cutting up under the skin just at his exposed, meaty shoulder and slid the blade under the shoulder's skin, no different than were she skinning a fish. The shoulder's flesh was peeled fully off at the front of Emerson's chest.

Once Emerson's shoulders were exposed, Clarke started peeling the end of her knife right below the surface of Emerson's skin, at his chest, the flaps from his shoulders hanging forward off his mangled chest. She slid it across his chest, under the flesh of his chest, and parted the skin from him again. She sliced away his flesh from his meaty breasts and downward, cutting away from his ribcage. Getting the flaps of skin to be squeezed under the strap that had Emerson bound at the chest was easy, just squeeze it through the bottom of the strap and pull it to the other side.

Clarke watched as the flappy skin, covered on one side with blood dangled from Emerson's ribs. Clarke peered at the blood and meat cloaked ribcage that she had unearthed by peeling the skin of Emerson's abdomen back.

Clarke cut down to the stomach and past that. She cut back the skin of his stomach, down to the front of his waist. There were two skinned flaps now. From Emerson's feet, to his waist and from his rear to his chest to his waist. The only two things missing now? The top of Emerson's chest. Where his heart was. And the skin of Emerson's head.

Clarke sighed, cutting away the last bit of the skin, freeing the flesh from the meat underneath, the flap of skin drenched in blood. Clarke reached out and grabbed the flesh, wrapping her hand around a large portion of the flesh that used to be attached to Emerson's chest. She pulled the large flap of skin, noting that since it was still attached to each other in some parts, but not the bloody body, it would be easy to toss all of it into the snow.

She pulled all of it away from Emerson's heaving, trembling body, each tremble a sign of his agony. She threw the heap of pale flesh, completely dark with blood on one side and threw it behind her. It landed with a sickening slicking sound against the stone floor. The pathway from the door to the post was layered with smooth, grey stone. The majority of the ground, however was not covered by stones. The circle around the stone path was ground and the top of the arena was open to the air, so snow had inevitably spilled down into it.

Clarke turned back to Emerson as the guards backed away, allowing Wanheda to finish the Helrer.

Clarke inched much closer and leaned into Emerson's face, his eyes squeezed shut in his pain. She slowly dragged the knife up to his head. She whispered to him through the mask. "No matter what happened after, I just want you to know, Emerson, I _am_ sorry about your family. For your wife and daughters and your little brother. You deserve everything you got. But I wish your family hadn't died."

Emerson's eyes just barely opened and she could tell, even with him barely getting his eyelids up, he was glaring at her. She meant what she said. Which she imagined was more than she could say for him.

She cut the blade underneath the slashed tethers of skin just around Emerson's neck, just above where she had skinned his chest and back. She peeled away the skin from his neck's meat, peeling it all back like an orange peel and peeling the flesh around and around his neck. She cut up and cut away the flesh of his chin and grabbed the skin of his neck and the skin flap from his chin, cutting up his cheeks. She let go of the skin flaps, only too grab Emerson's gag and hating that she and everyone else would have to listen to him, but she knew she'd deserve it, and she knew she'd need to get rid of the gag to make more room for the incisions.

She pulled the once white, now almost entirely dark brown with blood from his mouth and pulled it over the top of his head, tossing it behind her to join her victim's flesh on the ground. As soon as the gag was off and on the ground, Emerson's screams were let loose, loud and clear as if he had been screaming into a microphone attached to huge sound speakers.

Clarke winced at the level of noise, then again, she couldn't blame him at all, could she?

She kept slicing, grabbing the flesh of his neck and chin, pulling it aside. She cut away his lips, revealing his teeth, meat and gums. She carved up and sliced away his cheeks and sliced away the flap that would have kept his nose attached. Emerson howled with agony as a bone triangle with a gaping hole in the middle appeared as she peeled the flesh back and cut away the cartilage. She pushed all the cartilage and flesh away, holding it back with her left hand, all of it slick with blood and feeling like thicker paper under her hand. Usually the skinning was done without removing the entire nose. But Clarke had forgone that one particular care, because why not get over it. The entire nose, cartilage and all was what was going to be done.

She raised the knife up more, slicing the skin up his forehead and cutting away, seeing the parting between the portions of skin and seeing the meat beneath. She cut and cut, till she knew the entirety of the skin around Emerson's head, hair and all would give way.

She pulled at his hair and felt the skin draw from the meat of his head. She pulled and cut, peeling the flesh of his head right off. Sickeningly, what she held in her left hand, by Emerson's brown hair, was an empty skin mass with the skin of Emerson's neck and chin hanging off of it, blood smears at the nose and eye sockets.

Clarke stared at the skin mask, not sure how she wasn't showing any emotion right now, but simply tossed the heap back with the rest of the skin and the gag. At the gruesome landing sound, she turned back to Emerson again.

What was tied up before her now was a skinless, bloody red, vein covered, shaking mass, whimpering and howling in pain. Clarke stepped even closer, raising her blade, trying to ignore the feeling of the many stares burning through her, knowing that many of them belonged to her family and a set of those eyes belonged to Ontari.

There was just one final step here.

Emerson's heart needed to be parted from his body.

She sliced the blade into the left side of the blood drenched, raw meat, and she cut around the place, right where Emerson's heart was. She cut deep into the meat, feeling Emerson arch off the post in sheer pain. She ignored him and placed her left hand over his skinless shoulder, aware that that action alone was causing Emerson even more agony, but she ignored his further howls.

She cut into his chest, carving away the chest's flesh, gouging out the meat like one would gouge out a squash's insides. She eventually scooped away the meat, her face clenching in focus and cutting and pulling the blade in a way that slid the chunk of meat fully out, and allowed the large chunk to fall to the ground with a grotesque sound that was even worse than the heaps of skin.

Clarke knew it wasn't exactly the most delicate way of committing open-heart surgery. She, being a medic like Abby Griffin, knew that there were far better ways of doing it. But considering she had no intention of Emerson living, he was going to die horribly anyway, the only objective here was getting his heart out now, _and_ she knew this hardly counted as surgery-but butchery, so it didn't matter.

Blood poured out of the wound she had sliced into Emerson. She ignored his screams and cut further, his blood splashing out at her and bathing her hands and knife in it.

Finally, she reached his heart.

Clarke reached her left hand in, hand wrapping around the warm, beating, fleshy, red organ. This would be no hard feat for her. Not this particular part. She had cut into many people even before she had had a high body count to look over. She had been a medic and so she had handled surgery before. And during her time here? She had cut up more than enough people, cut into them and slashed their organs. This would be nothing emotionally compared to slaughtering a whole village of innocent people again and again under the queen's orders.

She cut away some more meat on the outside and the inside, making room for her knife. she slipped the blade inside and started cutting away the tubes.

Clarke glanced up when she heard the harsh, shrill screams that Emerson was letting loose. She was genuinely _impressed_ that he was still alive after all this. Had things been different and he had been used by the queen as one of her dogs, he might have become a great warrior.

But he wouldn't be alive for much longer.

She cut the tubes away, all of them, and pulled the heart out, sliding her arm back and held the heart in the palm of her hand, feeling the weight of it and the heat of his blood all over her left hand. Clarke held the heart up for everyone to see.

She watched as Emerson's slowly began to close, agony ever present in them. Clarke heard the chorus of cheers and howls of triumph all around her. She ignored them and was just glad it was over.

She glanced over to the queen as Emerson's body fell limp against the post, head dropping. The queen stood up from her throne and looked down at Clarke, smiling, looking far too satisfied. Clarke clenched her teeth. She recognized that look. It was the exact look Nia had had on her face when she had Clarke decimate her first village.

Clarke's eyes went over to Ontari. Ontari remained frozen on her seat, eyes never leaving her entarg. Clarke saw even from this distance how tight the other woman's lower jaw was. Clarke tried not to wince. She knew how much seeing this must have hurt Ontari. How much it must have damaged her love by seeing the woman she loved so much enacting such a brutal method of execution.

Clarke lowered her arm, still bearing the human heart of her enemy and she glanced at West and Edmund. Though she couldn't see the rest of their faces, thanks to their masks, Clarke could see the sadness in her brother and sister's eyes. This hurt them. As much as it hurt her and Ontari. It hurt them.

Clarke sighed, looking back over at the rest of her family. She had no right not looking them in the eyes after what she did. She surveyed them, seeing how pained they all look. Only a few of them were smirking at Emerson's painful death. As she expected, those were David, Casey, Mario, Finley and Parker. A great portion of them were emotionless, as they had learned to be over time.

Farron was staring at Clarke with some tears in his eyes. Clarke swallowed, expecting to see fear, horror or repulsion, but she saw none of those. Just that same sadness as the others.

Nia's voice caught Clarke's attention as she tried to decipher her son's expression.

"Well done, Wanheda!" Nia called out, making Clarke turn to her. The queen continued to grin. "Excellent. You may now get rid of the head and go to the chambers to be cleaned up afterwards. We will dispose with the rest of this filth." Nia scowled at Emerson's body. "And you have my permission now to send your messages as you see fit."

Clarke nodded, bowing her head to the queen. "Thank you, ai kwin." Clarke called out behind her mask.

A guard came up, holding a jar for the heart and Clarke nodded to him, placing the heart into the jar and the guard placed the porcelain lid shut.

Clarke turned to the other guard who was offering her a new blade. This one far bigger and longer than the one she had just used to dispatch Emerson with.

She handed him the knife, her hand aching with how much she had maneuvered her arm. The other guard, handed her the long blade. It wasn't quite a machete, but it was close enough to one.

Clarke took the machete with the same hand and walked over to Emerson's body. She didn't even bother to lift Emerson's head to enact the chopping. She swung her right arm, blade aimed at the skinless corpse's throat. She had cut through enough bodies to know how to expertly cut off someone's head with one blow. This would be nothing. The body wasn't even moving. A lot quicker and cleaner than her sloppy skinning job.

In her defense, she thankfully had never skinned anyone before. But it had resulted in a sloppy execution.

Thinking about this as mechanically as she could, so as to keep suppressing her emotions as she had had to do for the past six months, she swung the blade forward and severed Emerson's head from his neck.

 **North Atlantic Ocean**

 **The Great Stallion**

Wells practically stumbled around the deck with what he now knew. His right hand went to his thick hair, tangling in it, gripping at it, not sure if he wanted to rip it out or not. That very important thing between his ears, inside his skull, his brain, felt like it was going to explode at any moment with what he knew. How could one person deal with knowing this? His breath came out weakly and his one free hand, his left one clenched up, his need to scream, to throw a punch, to do fucking anything, really was unbearable. It was just fucking unbearable.

Wakuren followed him out, closing the door of the storage space behind her, a sympathetic look on her face.

Wells's wide, brown eyes searched the length of the deck before him, trying to find those two treacherous women. The things that Wakuren had told him were enough to infuriate even the most patient person in the world. How Lexa and Anya could _sleep_ at night was beyond him.

The words that Wakuren fed to him kept resounding in his tortured brain. Anya and Lexa had lied. Anya and Lexa had lied. Anya and Lexa had lied. Rage. Rage was a living pure thing that broke out all over Wells's skin. He seethed, mind traveling to possibly challenging Lexa here and now, all consequences be damned, before a gentle hand landed on his left shoulder, making him gasp and turn around, coming face to face with a concerned Wakuren.

Those sad, blue-green eyes watched Wells with protectiveness that Wells realized now had always been there. "Whatever you are going to do, Wels," Wakuren informed the young man, "Please remember that Klark needs you. If you go into a fight against Leksa or Onya now, there is risk to you being injured. Please don't do that to your sister. Not until you have an advantage." Wells stared at the woman before him, wrapping his already bewildered brain around what he had just been told and what was more, had just been _offered._

Besides learning that not only had Lexa lied (not really much of a surprise), but the person, Anya that he considered a good friend, had been keeping him and Clarke in the dark this long, but he had just been given the offer of family outside of the one hundred.

It was something that Wells had never imagined gaining, since his mother's death from the flue when he was only four.

A mother. A mother that would take him and Clarke in and act as their guardian. When Wells had heard Wakuren's offer, his brain hadn't quite caught up with him yet. But there it was. Wakuren considered him and considered Clarke her children. Even if it wasn't by blood. Wells had found the question of whether Wakuren was replacing her dead sons with him and Clarke or not spilling out of his mouth when Wakuren had offered. It wasn't the wisest thing to ask, but he hadn't been able to help it and in his defense, he had been taken off guard by the request. She had reacted in a way that told him she had been expecting that question and had responded calmly that no, she was not just replacing her sons. She loved both Clarke and Wells for who they were. She wasn't looking for replacements.

Wakuren possessed parental feelings for him and for Clarke. Firstly, Wells needed to have this clarified for sure. He said, eyes squinting as if his mind couldn't quite comprehend what he had been told back there in the storage space that was now utterly dark with the now extinguished candles. "You care about me? And about Clarke? You see us as your children?"

It seemed alien to say. Technically speaking, Wells hadn't had parents for a while now. It made him feel weird. He had gotten used to the loss of feeling taken care of by parental figures. With Jake having been executed, his father Thelonius never really being there for him and throwing him down to Earth as a test subject, just like he had with all the other underage prisoners, and Abby Griffin never really seeing him as anything more than the best friend of her daughter, and Wells's mother being dead since he was four, Wells had been basically parentless for almost years now.

Callie Cartwig? She had been the most caring, even loving person that Wells had met on the Ark besides Jake Griffin and who knew if she was still alive? Maybe she had died back on the Ark during the riots.

Kane? That was a laugh. Wells had respected the man as much as he had been able to back on the Ark. But when he found out that Kane was for Jake's execution, that respect instantly disappeared. Kane had not been Jake's friend and never was. Whenever Kane tried to get chummy with Wells, the young man treated Kane the same as he treated Bellamy. Like he was a leper. Why sully himself with their presence?

So Wakuren perhaps was the only individual that Wells knew who regarded him with such warm motherly feelings as he saw. He had to admit that he hadn't been expecting it. But it explained a great deal of what he had seen back in Polis and in Ton DC.

And according to Wakuren, she had returned to the mountain, following him and Anya. He wasn't sure if he believed that, but the way she said it and the way she looked at him made his disbelief wane a bit. The offer she had laid out before him in the storage room raced around in Wells's brain. Why not? He knew that Clarke had never really forgiven Abby for Jake's death. And even though Wells understood why Abby had let him take the blame, what he could never understand was how Abby could tell Thelonius about Jake knowing, and even more? He would never be able to understand how Abby could have told his father about Clarke knowing too. Surely she had to know that it would sign Jake's death warrant and potentially Clarke's too.

As much as Wells understood Abby, he could not sympathize with her loss of her daughter. If Clarke didn't regard Abby as her mother anymore, which Wells knew his dearest friend well enough to know that she did in fact not, at least not the last time he had seen her, then maybe Clarke would be more susceptible to the possibility of someone stepping in for the role as her mother. Wells's mind hadn't even really given true thought to the possibility of being adopted when he had first heard the offer. But thinking about it now, why not? He and Clarke were brother and sister. And they both had had extremely estranged relationships with their parents.

So why not choose Wakuren as their mother? Of course, there was still the matter of Lexa and Anya's goddamn lies. Hell, Anya had lied _right_ to his face. Again and again. Someone who he thought was his friend.

Wells's eyes closed, sucking in a breath, pain riddling his body. Not of the physical kind. It was the same kind that plagued him every single time he imagined his sister, Clarke helpless and alone with the Azgeda. Torment. Emotional pain. It was worse than getting punched in the gut or the face. That at least healed with time. Any lingering anger or hate even that Clarke might still bear towards Lexa and Anya, Wells now contained enough to burn this ship and watch the charred driftwood float in the sea.

Was anything they had said true? Any of it at all?

He felt the hand that had been on his shoulder slide off abruptly, snapping the young man out of his thoughts. He looked at Wakuren in surprise. The dark-haired woman asked, nodding to him, concern in her eyes, "What are you thinking, my son?"

Wells's heart pounded with those words. "My son." It was a very strange and foreign idea. Alien to him even by this point. Sure, he knew that the Grounders were not beyond taking some of them in and making them into their people. Octavia had become Indra's Second, after all. And while Wells had a hard time believing anything that Anya claimed right now, he suspected Anya's claims to wish to marry Clarke had been more genuine than Lexa's. But of course, now he just didn't know anymore.

What had been real with them and what hadn't been?

"You'd adopt us?" Wells asked quietly, before he could help himself, mind wild with the possibility. He wasn't sure he'd call himself or Clarke orphans. But to a certain extent, he supposed they were. All of the one hundred, save for the ones that still had at least one parent like Miller, were orphans. And _he_ was the one that was being asked to allow himself to be adopted. Along with his sister and best friend, Clarke. And Abby? Well, Wells hated to admit it, but she wasn't exactly "mother material."

Wakuren nodded, a gentle smile on her lips. It was rare and Wells couldn't recall a time when she had seen that same smile grace Wakuren's features. It wasn't that Wells hadn't witnessed Wakuren appear amused or enjoying herself in any way before. But it was just incredibly rare. The more he thought about it, the more Wakuren's offer made sense of some of the ways Wakuren had looked at him and Clarke in Polis and in Ton DC. It had been a strange yearning look that Wells hadn't quite been able to place at the time.

"Is that such a hard thing to believe, Wels?" Wakuren asked the young man curiously. Wells shrugged. "I don't really know." He confessed. "Usually when my people take children in as theirs, the people from the Ark, I mean, even if they're not related to those children and take them in, the children are younger than my and Clarke's age." Wells added, smirking, "You know, way younger."

Adoption on the Ark was by no means unheard of. Given that the adults tended to be floated for any crime at all, and they'd sometimes, if not often leave behind a young child, parents who either had no child or already had one child would adopt the parentless little one. But the limit for that tended to be around twelve or thirteen or fourteen if the kid was lucky.

Then there were of course "second" children that were hidden all around the Ark. Though Wells had only heard whispers, he had no doubt that it happened.

When a second child was born, it was of course illegal. So what was to be done about it so that the chancellors didn't find out? Simple.

Give the second child to a childless couple.

That wasn't to say that that the adoption of children on the Ark, (that didn't involve second children) was illegal to do, it wasn't. But Wells's people tended to have a preference for younger children as the "ideal child" to raise. That had been the case before the bombs hit.

Parents tended to want smaller children to raise and imprint their beliefs on. Older children had opinions of their own, thoughts of their own, morals of their own and most importantly? _Problems_ of their own. Trauma. Anger issues. Pain. Sometimes drug addiction even. The types of parents that Wells had grown up around liked the malleable types of offspring. Young children they could influence, not what they'd consider a burden or a willful teenager. People on the Ark tended to want sponges. Not older, fully aware and possibly traumatized beings.

So to hear someone offering to adopt him and Clarke, two full-grown human beings, that was staggering when it came to comprehension. It was almost as much of a shock and finding out that the village that he had been hating himself for taking part in burning down hadn't even existed in where he had been told it existed in the first place.

Wakuren nodded, not losing her smile. "I see." She answered. "Well, I am not anyone from the Ark, am I? And as your people call us, Grounders, we genuinely don't care about the age of the child we intend to adopt. I believe you've seen this already with Oktevia? Indra has taken Oktevia as her Seken." Wells nodded. He understood that the "First and Second" thing was much more familial than just a teacher and student. So he understood that the comparison was fitting in this context.

"I do not care what age you or Klark are." Wakuren emphasized. "I came to love both of you. And Abi is hardly fitting to be a mother. And from what I've heard of Thelownyus, he hardly is fitting to be your father." Wells gave a small snort. Well, she was right about that. He nodded. He looked around the deck, not sure if he was checking to see if anyone was listening in, which they weren't, or if he was wrapping his brain around everything and making sure he wasn't dreaming.

The more he thought about it, Lexa and Anya's lies aside, Wakuren's offer was more tempting to him than he thought. Because a part of him _did_ yearn for parental affection. And he knew Clarke did too, despite how strong she was. And out of all the one hundred, besides Raven, Finn, Charlotte and Monty, didn't Clarke deserve parental affection the most?

He looked at Wakuren in her hopeful blue-green eyes, surprised at how hopeful she looked, allowing herself to appear vulnerable before him. Wells had to admit, he felt a great deal of affection for her. And while that feeling began, it might not originally had been the affection of a child for its mother, he was not closing himself off from the idea. Especially not now.

He nodded, despite everything that was happening, his heart beating, his mind spinning. She was right. About Abby. About Jaha. And Wells didn't trust Kane. He wouldn't be good parental material. Clarke certainly needed a more caring mother in her life. As much as Wells understood Abby's reason for letting him take the blame over Jake's death, he could accept that Abby wasn't good for Clarke as a mother. And if Wakuren was offering? Well…

Wells quite frankly couldn't believe he had gotten to a point that he was willing to give the "Scourge of the Plains Tribe" the chance to be his and Clarke's mother. Seriously, who'd have thought? A woman who had spent a great deal of her life pillaging and going to war and slaughtering people to avenge her deceased sons-who had more blood on her hands than possibly Anya and she wanted to be his and Clarke's mother. And he was seriously considering giving her that chance for both him and for Clarke.

Yeah, today was really, really weird.

"I accept." Wells said at last, "On one condition." Wakuren's smile almost split her face and Wells was stunned. This was the most emotion besides gruff anger and some fear he had seen, not just from Wakuren, but from _any_ Grounder, minus Lincoln and Anya. "The condition?" Wakuren asked curiously. "I'll hold up this condition. But what is it?"

Wells nodded, sighing. He knew he needed to be certain of this. As certain as he was that he wanted Bellamy to be killed for the sake for his family and for the sake of any possible peace.

"You said that you wanted both me and Clarke as your children, right?" Wells asked. He nodded and added, "Well, Charlotte is part of the deal. If you take us in, you need to take her in too. That's the deal. Charlotte's my little sister as much as Clarke is. And she needs to be looked after by a parent." Wakuren looked a little surprised by this condition, before she nodded. Wells let loose a breath of relief. Good. There would be no problem here.

"Very well," Wakuren acknowledged. "I'll take Charlotte in too. But I refuse to welcome the beast that you want dead, Belomi, Oktevia, Fin or Milla or any of your other fellow foolish one hundred into my life in that way." Wells snickered, laughing a bit harder than he should have. Well, he certainly wasn't going to begrudge her for saying _that._

Octavia was a mass of entitlement and self-righteousness. She only saw herself whenever she was letting loose a reason for her issue. She couldn't understand when she was wrong, ever. She had had a hard life, yes, but all that she was at the end of it was a hand. A blood-soaked hand who thought knew best instead of realizing she was a mindless killing machine and nothing more.

Miller? Aside from the fact that he actually had an attentive father? He was weak. Cowardly. He would stab Clarke in the back first chance he got. In fact, Wells knew very well that he _had._ Back at the mountain. While Miller, Monty, Harper and the others were more than happy to bend over for the Mountain Men because of cake, Clarke was looking out for them. Wells admitted that he had been caught up in the spell too. He and Charlotte and Clarke were safe. At least at the time it had felt that way. What else could he ask for? And a part of him at the time had believed that Clarke had been reacting the way she had been reacting, due to trauma.

But unlike Miller and the others? He and Charlotte hadn't treated her trauma-or at the time, understandable caution like it was a burden. Or both her trauma and caution as a burden. They had wanted to help her. But Wells had also known that if Clarke was that certain that the Mountain Men couldn't be trusted, then he should go with Clarke to reassure her.

The way Wells figured it, if he went with her and they found anything that proved the Mountain Men could be trusted, then that would be good for Clarke. It might help her settle in and feel safer.

Instead, the two of them had found the opposite. They had found the cages full of Grounders in the secret room. And they had found a locked up Anya. Knowing what he knew now, Wells wondered if he would have just left Anya to die there. He wondered if Clarke would have too if she knew what he knew now.

But Miller wasn't to be trusted. Wells knew that.

And Finn? Finn wasn't so bad. Wells actually realized he had come to love Finn as a brother. Like him, Finn would do anything for the rest of the one hundred and their people, especially Clarke, Charlotte and Raven. So how could he not trust him? But he understood where Wakuren's boundaries were being drawn. Finn was outside of the people that Wakuren had decided that she loved the most. And even though Charlotte technically was too, Charlotte was still fairly young. Finn? Finn was considered a dangerous warrior in Grounder eyes.

And Wells knew that Wakuren knew about Finn lying to Clarke. And lying to Raven. Thinking about Raven, Wells thought about asking Wakuren if Raven could be taken under the woman's wing too. Though she doubted Raven would thank him for that. Raven was an incredibly independent woman. It was hard to imagine that she would thank him for going behind her back and asking someone to baby her.

Then again, he doubted that she wouldn't try to kill him if she knew that he had basically asked Anya to abduct her, Charlotte and Clarke if it ever came to war. Despite the morbid thought, Wells smirked. She _would_ kick his ass, wouldn't she? Still, he would ask her permission when it came to Wakuren later. Raven, like Clarke and Charlotte and Wells supposed himself too, was in serious need of parental attention. Hell, maybe even more than most of them. Raven's mother used to sell her daughter's rations for alcohol and drugs. It was one of the reasons why Wells hoped the woman's death on the Ark from an overdose had been slow. The only regret he felt was that Raven had seen her mother's body fairly young before Finn had come and gotten her out of the bunk and had seen her mother in the awful woman's last moments. He regarded Wakuren and nodded, "Understood. There are two things I need to ask." Wakuren perked her head up at attention.

Wells continued, looking around the ship to make sure no one was watching or listening in. They weren't. Wells turned back to Wakuren. "You said you were willing to follow along if I had a plan. But if not, I should keep my head down. For Clarke." Wakuren nodded. Wells shifted on the deck, asking the question carefully, "Would you really have done it? Helped me go against your Commander? If I had had a plan, I mean?"

Wakuren shrugged. "Why not? The Commander is just a title. We're supposed to bow before a title? I will be no one's servant just for a title. I will follow who proves themselves worthy of such a title. And this Commander has not done so. And you are my son. Before she is my Commander. So yes. I would have helped you. But remember." Wakuren's surprisingly gentle face had a look of caution. "You need to make sure you are safe too. And make sure that your sister doesn't lose her brother. Clarke loves you. Can you imagine what dying will do to her? And I've already lost two sons. I wish not to lose a third."

Wells was startled by the impassioned words and stared at the woman. Wakuren added, "I will help you, when you and Klark are safe, Wels. But for now? Keep your head down. Until we get Klark back and you, Sharlot and Klark are safe." Wells nodded, still a little stunned by all this. There was no village that he should be kicking his own ass over accidentally helping burn down. And a Grounder woman who had devastated the Plains Tribe loved him and intended to be his and Clarke's mother. And was willing to go against the Commander herself to do it.

Talk about a weird day. Wells confessed, Wakuren took him completely and utterly by surprise. The thought of having an actual family again-not a misfit, screwed up and unreliable one like the one hundred, but a somewhat stable household and family was alien by this point, sure. But it was also very tempting. Wells didn't miss any of the affection in Wakuren's eyes at all. When he had accepted her offer, he was stepping into Wakuren's promise of real, genuine love and affection. Something he and Clarke hadn't had in a while apart from the attention they gave each other and a few others gave them.

He knew what the implications of this were. This relationship meant that he, Clarke and Charlotte would have a more stable home, but it also meant that even though he and Clarke were leaders and Wakuren would obey them in public, but when Wells, Clarke and Charlotte needed to be taken care of, needed to feel loved, Wakuren would be the one to take authority. And Wells knew that. Though he knew it might be somewhat complicated for this to be shown in public, he did not care and he doubted that Clarke or Charlotte would either. They needed a mother. It was strange realizing. Sure, they didn't necessarily _need_ a mother in the sense that they needed to be protected the way a child was protected by their mother. He and Clarke were now fully grown. But they needed Wakuren more than Wells had thought before. Because full-grown adults or not, he and Clarke were still human. And they had gone through more trauma than more people should ever go through. And neither of them had been given real parental affection or support in so long.

Abby? Wells understood her desperation to reconnect with Clarke. But he knew, he knew that Abby was not a good mother. Clarke, Wells knew with distaste and remorse was in an abusive relationship with Abby Griffin. Wells knew that he couldn't let the woman near Clarke again, not if he wanted Clarke to get better mentally after rescuing her from the Azgeda. Jake and Callie had been the only truly nurturing parental figures in Clarke and Wells's lives, and Wells knew that. And Callie might very well be dead and Jake was definitely dead.

So if Wells was talking solely about having parental support and care from an emotional and mental standpoint, Wells knew that he and Clarke needed Wakuren. Because Abby Griffin was not an option. And Wells didn't trust Kane.

This lead to Wells's second condition. He met Wakuren's green-blue eyes. "You know about my arrangement with Anya about Bellamy, don't you?" Wakuren nodded, smirking. "I have no interest in preventing it. In fact, I'll help, if you wish." Wells sighed, almost laughing as he realized what he was trying to pull off and who was willing to cover it. Wakuren continued, sneering, "And that wretch isn't the only Sky Person I'd kill in your and Klark's name." She informed Wells. Wells froze, looking up at her. He noticed Wakuren shifting her gaze past him.

He turned around slowly and saw where Wakuren was looking. At part of the port bow. Where Abby stood with Monroe and Sterling. Wells sighed, nodding. "Ah." He said quietly. Abby. Well, he supposed he couldn't wrong her for that. He faced Wakuren. "For Clarke's dad?" Wakuren shook her head, grimacing. "For everything. For endangering Klark on the Ark. For helping her get sent down with several dangerous criminals who could have hurt her. For never respecting Klark's authority. For cutting Klark down every chance she got because she wanted to take control instead." Wakuren shook her head, lips curling back in anger. "There is much I could throw her body into the sea for."

Wells felt a laugh leave his lips and his eyes widened at such a morbid reaction. Holy shit, how fucked up had he become over time? Wells knew that he wasn't just trying to have Bellamy killed, but would be okay with both Abby and Kane being killed and their bodies dumped into the sea. Wells was certain that if he lived this long on the Ark, behaving the way he was behaving, he most likely would be labeled "homicidal."

Wells felt a smirk touch his lips. Homicidal. He wasn't sure that that would be an inaccurate title for him.

Seeing her son's reaction, Wakuren grinned back. "I see you are not troubled by my thoughts on what should be done to the woman who just happened to have given birth to Klark. I imagine that though I wish to take Klark in as my daughter, there would be some discord over Abi being killed." Wells shrugged. "I _do_ care about her. I do. But if I have to make a choice between her surviving and my sister having a safe, happy and healthy life of any kind, I know that Abby can't be involved in her life." Wells knew his words should have chilled his bones. They didn't. Wells knew things for how they were. Bellamy would offer no chance at peace and was dangerous for Clarke, and for him.

And Abby offered no comfort to Clarke, and Wells knew that, no matter how much he'd like to think otherwise, he knew that.

Wakuren cocked her head slightly. "You would be alright with that? With me killing Abi? What about Klark?"

Wells sighed, realizing that he was making a huge choice right now. He was making a choice not just for himself, for Bellamy and for Abby and Kane, but also for Clarke. And he probably wouldn't be able to go back on it.

Should Clarke find out about all this? What he was planning? For Bellamy, she most likely would be furious. She considered the stupid, violent man her brother. For reasons Wells never would understand. And him being killed, no matter the good reason for it, most likely would hurt her. Of course, if Anya killed him, it would kill two birds with one stone. Not only would it kill off the most heinous of the Sky's Peoples' number, but it would also give Clarke more of a reason to stay away from Anya.

As for Abby Griffin? Wells hated it, but Clarke had to know that Abby wouldn't be good for either of them. If Abby died before Clarke was reunited with them, how much would it hurt her? Wells frowned. But in the end, if it was for the best, wasn't it worth killing Abby? To protect Clarke's mental health? He eyed Wakuren. "Like you said, doing anything this soon? Probably not a good idea. But don't get rid of the possibility that we should dispose of her." Wells found the words coming out disturbingly easy. Arranging the death of someone that he had once known for years and years? Wells had to admit, he wasn't seeing it coming that he would be willing to do this to others.

Wakuren nodded, snickering. "Very well. For now. We keep quiet and do nothing."

Wells gave another chuckle at all this. Despite her murderous tendencies, Wakuren was the best option. And well, could he really deny her after she had poured out her heart as she had in the cabin just now? Wells had seen what he was certain was rare vulnerability in the woman's eyes when she had told him that she regarded him and Clarke as if they were her own children. That couldn't have been easy for a hardened warrior like her to do when she didn't know how he would answer.

He wanted her to know that she had nothing to worry about. That he wanted her to be there for him, Clarke and Charlotte. He smiled up at her. "Thank you." He said to the woman. "Nomon." He added quietly. The word felt strange on his lips, as he had never used it before, since no one had stepped up to take him in as Wakuren had, even though he knew what the word meant. Again, to Wells's surprise, there was shock in Wakuren's eyes before that shock turned to warmth, softness and again, to what Wells could only describe as his own further surprise, affection, love even. He was going to need a while to wrap his brain around this.

The Scourge of the Plains People loved him and Clarke as she would her own children. And wanted to adopt them. That was a lot to take in. He and Clarke had a mother now. A real mother. Not a mother in title only and didn't really give them the affection they'd need, like Abby was to Clarke. An actual, attentive mother. Wells's brain was not jumpstarting. No it was not.

He smiled at her. "You better be careful when we get to the Ice Nation." He said quietly. "Clarke and I? We can't lose you." Wakuren smirked. "Don't get too worried, Wels kom Skaikru." Wakuren assured the young man. "I didn't survive and pillage half the Ingranrona to be defeated by some savage Azgeda. You make sure you and Sharlot are safe. I'm not losing you either."

Wells nodded, still shocked, despite the small smile on his face. This was a lot. Wow, this was a lot.

He looked around the deck again and said quietly, we should head back to the others. Separately. Or else they'd get suspicious. Wakuren nodded, walking to where a line of warriors were training alongside each other. Some of the one hundred were in that line. Monroe, Sterling Harper, Jones, Hank, Molly and some others.

Even though her back was to him, Wells was certain that Wakuren was keeping track of him, listening for his footsteps to see if he was following her or not. Wells looked around the deck again to check if anyone had heard or seen them. No one, as far as he could tell was watching them.

Sighing out in disbelief, Wells started walking from the cabin where he and Wakuren had talked and away from the training warriors. He started going to the other side of the ship and walking up the wooden stairs, spotting Raven, Charlotte and Finn up on the upper level of the ship. He needed to be near them after what he had just heard. Aside from the shock of what he had been offered by Wakuren, knowing that everything Anya had told him was basically a lie? He just couldn't stomach being near anyone else right now.

As soon as he was up on the deck, he leaned down and scooped a happy and grinning Charlotte up into his arms, hugging her tightly as he realized with horror what Lexa and Anya lying about the village Deyorele quintessentially meant.

It meant that Roma Bragg, Diggs, Del, all the others that were killed before the war broke out between the one hundred and Anya's army, they all had died for nothing.

Feeling the cold stickiness of that horror, Wells slowly lowered Charlotte down onto the deck and tried to fake a genuine smile to Raven and Finn, pretending that he didn't feel absolutely sick to his stomach. He silently repeated the names of all those that had been murdered by the Grounders that Lexa had sent in to kill them before the battle with Anya's warriors. The people who hadn't needed to die, but had.

The people who had died for nothing because there _had_ been no village that they burned down.

Roma Bragg, Diggs, Del, Drew, John Mbege, Kyle, Denny, Kate, Craig, Howard, Theo, Jeff…they all died for nothing. Nothing!

Wells's jaw tightened, thinking about all those who had been assassinated by Lexa's warriors. If Deyorele was a village that had burnt down years and years ago, and they had never had anything to do with that village, then there was literally no reason for Lexa to attack all of them. The people who had died in those Grounder attacks? They died for nothing.

Wells had to turn away from Raven and Finn, because he couldn't let them see the anger and pain in his eyes as he thought of everything. Everyone that had been murdered just for Lexa's paranoia.

Kate's wide grin and playful eyes.

Drew's gentle nature and wishing to see the ocean, hoping for peace and quiet.

Jeff's love of any adventure, no matter how far from camp it was and eagerness to help others.

Theo's insistence that she never be left behind when traveling through the forest. Her insistence on racing everyone to the location they wanted to get to.

Kyle's love for climbing and the light in his eyes whenever he succeeded in getting to what he considered a far up place and would stand there and cheer for almost five minutes straight before climbing back down.

Those good people, full of life. And they had been extinguished, all because of _her_. Wells stared with hate, with sheer, burning hate when his eyes found the wretched Commander, giving her orders to the many warriors before her. That woman…did she feel _anything?_ Did she regret _anything?_

Or did she just feel nothing? Or bury it under piles and piles of bullshit, pretending that it had all been for the best? The twenty-four that had been burned up along with Anya's three hundred warriors? That couldn't be helped. They were at war then and those twenty-four died, caught in the crossfire.

But would they have had to die if Lexa hadn't sent Anya's warriors after them that day? No, they wouldn't have.

Between the fifteen that had been killed by Lexa's warriors because of her sheer paranoia, even though the one hundred had done nothing, and the twenty-four that had burned to death in the fire when Anya's people had attacked and Clarke had done what she needed to do to defend her people?

That was thirty-nine. Thirty fucking nine.

Wells's heart ripped. Thirty-nine Sky people and three hundred Grounders had died because of Lexa's paranoia and practically bigotry. What she had done had been born out of ignorance and xenophobia.

Wells's jaw was tight and he could just feel the rage stirring inside of him. It was so strong that he didn't know if he'd survive it or not. He counted off the names of the twenty-four who had burned in the fire.

Tony, Fred, Kevin, Rocco, Jimmy, Edna, Joey, Patty-

Wells almost hissed out in agony, the names becoming too much for him. All of them had died because of _her_. They had all died because Lexa was too distrusting of people who were different.

Who were foreigners. Refugees. Refugees that had done nothing. Fucking nothing. They hadn't done anything until Anya had attacked with her army. They had done nothing, but Lexa had already decided that they were a threat. And Anya had just gone along with it, continuing the lie-like a mindless killing machine. No different from Octavia.

Wells stared at Lexa who was still training those in front of her, really not quite wrapping his brain around how such a xenophobic creature could exist. Sure, his dad had been the same way, but he had thought such ignorance had been cast out with his departure. Bellamy was the same way, that was why Wells didn't trust him. As soon as the Grounders came up, Bellamy was all for wiping them out like the xenophobic piece of shit he was.

But to think that Lexa was the Commander of ALL twelve tribes? That was so disturbing, while also knowing just how xenophobic Lexa was. Wells's bones were chilled and he stayed close to Raven, Finn and Charlotte. He needed to keep his loved ones safe from Lexa. From Bellamy. And as much as Wells hated it, he had to keep them safe from Anya too.

He sighed out, feeling the information roil around in his troubled head. The village that he and Clarke had felt responsible for burning down and had tortured themselves over didn't even exist. Anya and Lexa had been lying to them about it from the beginning, all to get them to do what they said. And all of those deaths? They were all for nothing. And the Scourge of the Plains People wanted to adopt him and Clarke as her children.

Today had been…odd, to say the least. Wells snorted, thinking to himself, _must be Wednesday._

Still, one thing you learned after playing chess for so long and for so many times? You learned how to strategize, how to manipulate. Just because he did not have a plan to deliver to Wakuren now, did not mean that he didn't have one or wouldn't have one eventually. As long as he could trust Wakuren not to say a word, they could plan without any interference. He'd let Anya think that things were normal. That their friendship was maintained. As Wells knew personally, a metaphorical blade to the back was the most effective when no one even knew that the blade had been pulled out. And neither would Lexa or that joke of a leader back at their camp, Bellamy.

Wells, for some reason thought of the law classes that he and Clarke had received back on the Ark and recalled a saying that they had been taught. He liked a certain phrase he had been taught that came to mind. True, these law classes had been taught to him and Clarke in hopes of them filling the shoes of their parents on the council. But the saying was a powerful, meaningful saying. A saying that would come to fruition, if he and Wakuren were careful.

The saying was this: "Justice will be done."

 **Six months and two weeks ago**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

 _The consensus throughout the small campsite around the dropship was that no one was to go anywhere NEAR the water. There was a massive, predatory animal within the depths of the water and none of them wanted to find out how just hungry it was. Blair had stayed very close to Finley and to West. The two older girls had gotten a few of the jackets from the ship and wrapped them around themselves. West had gotten one for Blair. The jacket was too big for the girl, but still, felt a lot better than the cool air that surrounded them and got colder by the second._

 _That dark-skinned, black-haired girl that had volunteered to go after the others if they didn't come back, Bailey, she had dared to go to the water with some canteens and had filled some of those canteens. She'd never stay near the water long. She would always leap back a few feet as soon as she was done filling each canteen. She had grabbed a few of the knives from the ship, keeping them close to her. She had given the other knives to Finley, West, Sabine, Kristin and Cameron-the last of those she gave the knives to, Cameron had been the most adamant about not wanting the knives, but took them anyway._

 _Inching towards each other, Bailey wiped away the water that had clung to the sides of the canteens and faced Kristin. She looked at the other girl. "So how did_ _you_ _end up here?"_

 _Kristin shrugged, frowning, "Punched a guard while I was drunk." Bailey gawked, almost laughing. Kristin scowled. "I don't think you're one to talk. I heard about what happened with Pike. You tried to kill him." There was no accusation in her voice, just awe. Kristin liked to think she could be brave. But Bailey had to have some serious guts to do what she had tried to do._

 _Bailey said in a cool voice, "He was going to kill people that didn't even commit a crime. He's been conserving oxygen and killing off people that didn't even do anything. I figured anyone besides Jaha, Kane and Abby Griffin would be better than him. So I tried for it." Kristin gave a small laugh, "Hey, I'm not judging. Just saying, shit, you tried to actually kill the chancellor. I shouldn't be finding it so impressive, but it is." Bailey smirked. "The only two things I regret are that I didn't succeed and that I was taken from my parents after that." Kristin nodded, thinking about her parents and grandparents. Her family…..how were they holding up after her arrest? After she had been thrown down here to die?_

 _She slipped her hand into her thin, jacket pocket, fingers pressing against what her mother had given her right before her arrest, when the guards had come for her. It was Anna Blue's Oglala Lakota necklace that she got from her father, James. She could feel the shape of the circle of the necklace under her fingers. She sucked in a breath._

 _She felt Bailey watching her. The taller girl nodded to where Kristin's hand was, "What's that? That you have?" Bailey stopped when she saw how Kristin tensed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want." Kristin shook her head, hand lowering. "No, it's alright. It's the necklace my mom gave me. It was her father's Oglala necklace."_

 _Bailey frowned, confused. "I thought you mentioned a few seconds before about being Nakota?" Kristin chuckled, nodding. "Yes. My father's parents were both Nakota, Sioux as was my maternal grandmother's parents. But my maternal grandfather's father was Oglala Lakota. My maternal grandfather's mother was white." Bailey nodded. "Oh." She said. "Yeah. I'm all Oglala, except for my dad's mom. She was black."_

 _Kristin nodded. She glanced over at the water where Cody had backed away from. "You know," She said, grinning at Bailey, "For a second? When that girl, Cody jumped away from the water and we saw that head pop, I actually thought of Unktehila." Bailey cocked her eyebrows at Kristin. "Unktehila?" Bailey repeated, snorting. "The horned water serpent? Why would you be thinking about her? And that's a seal." Kristin nodded, rolling her eyes. "I KNOW. But it's what I thought as soon as I saw something big moving in the water. The things I've heard? Giant snakes in the water? You see something moving in the water, knowing that there are giant snakes down here and what do_ _you_ _think of?"_

 _Bailey chuckled, pulling her thick jacket closer around herself. "Giant snakes." She hugged herself, trying to keep herself warm. "Just giant snakes. Nothing else. I don't think we're even in the right place for that if that serpent would even be around. Besides, don't tell me that you think the gods would bother with humanity after they blew up Earth?"_

" _We_ _didn't do that." Kristin protested, staring at Bailey in meaning. "The white man did. And so did other people with power. But our tribe had nothing to do with that." Bailey nodded, but her face hadn't changed at all. "That's true. But wouldn't it be more efficient if the gods and goddesses and spirits gave up on all of humanity? Why risk more bombs being blasted across the Earth, when you could just wipe the slate clean?" Kristin blanched, startled. She wanted to protest, but the more she thought about it, the more Bailey's words made sense. Why kill only a huge portion of the creatures that had polluted the Earth and destroyed the seas, Earth's blood-when they could destroy every last human and wipe the slate entirely clean? Why risk having even a_ _couple_ _of human beings alive?_

 _Bailey added, sighing, "Sorry. I know that got really grim. But I'm just saying. Humans kind of already screwed up in every way that matters when it comes to the planet. I don't think the gods and spirits care much anymore." Kristin nodded, shoulders sagging. Bailey was making more sense than she'd like._

 _Deciding to bring light to the situation, which she tried to do often when her parents were feeling down, Kristin said to Bailey quickly, "Well, I guess it's a good think that it's_ _not_ _Unktehila then, right? Because I don't see any Thunderbirds down here to handle it either."_

 _Bailey smirked. "Yeah. I guess so." She looked over at Kristin. "Didn't know you were so scared of water snakes." Kristin shook her head. "Hey, it's one of the first things I heard of when we got radio signal. Apparently there was some giant snake that attacked one of the other group of delinquents. A water snake. The only thing I was thinking when I heard that was, 'how big a snake are we talking about? Nagini big or Unktehila big?'"_

 _Bailey's eyebrows lifted, then she chuckled, recognition filling her face. "Oh." She said, smirking at the Harry Potter reference. "Nagini. Right." Kristin smirked, looking back towards the water, noting that no one had gone anywhere near it since. "Well," Bailey answered, "Not sure I want to deal with either. Nagini was a Horcrux, so I wouldn't want to deal with_ _that_ _shit either." Kristin gave a small laugh, glancing at Bailey, then at the water again._

 _Kristin then started to look around the landscape. "This does_ _not_ _look like Virginia, does it?" Bailey shook her head. "Nope." She hugged herself more tightly, shivering at the cold. "It might be Minnesota." Kristin looked at Bailey, surprised. The other girl shrugged. "It's cold enough. And I heard that it was pretty cold in Minnesota on Earth before the bombs and radiation."_

 _Kristin chuckled. "I guess it would fit." She narrowed her eyes and looked at the trees. She had seen pictures of Minnesota's trees. Somehow she felt like the trees were wrong. Still, it was a possibility. It wasn't like she had ever frigging_ _seen_ _all of Minnesota or any of Earth before now, outside of pictures._

 _Across the small camp, Beryl Guo had sat down on a soft, but cool patch of ground right next to the ship, knees tucked close to her chest, staring out at the vast landscape and water. Her arms were around her legs and she was breathing in and out deeply, trying to control her nerves. All those years the people on the Ark had dreamed of coming back down to Earth and seeing if it was livable. Now they were here, and Beryl could barely feel the motivation to move. Icy fear gripped her and had decided that it was going to stay._

 _There was a whole world out there and Beryl didn't know if she possessed the courage to get up and see it. In that world, there were many dangers. It wasn't like Earth was without predatory animals and other people. Violent people. The reports, though limited and lacking in deep details, had given Beryl enough information to be apprehensive about Earth. Giant snakes, acid fog and people that would kill you the first chance they got. Dozens of tribes that were bloodthirsty and thought of her and other people from the Ark as dirt._

 _So no, Beryl didn't feel any real motivation to get up and explore like the six that had left the campsite, not really. She felt a whole lot safer staying right here on her ass. It wasn't to say that she didn't know that her own family back on the Ark had been any safer. Her father had died of an overdose when he had gotten addicted to drugs after getting injured and needing painkillers when Beryl was nine. After chaos started running rampant on the Ark after Jaha, Abby Griffin and Kane and a few others got down to Earth, her mother had been stabbed by some thieves who had attacked her and her daughter._

 _Beryl's left shoulder and left leg stung in pain at the memory of the thugs and their knives. She grimaced. As terrified as she was of this place, she was just grateful that she wasn't up on the Ark anymore. She heard a startling voice next to her._

" _Hey, you okay?" Beryl jumped a little at the boy's voice and looked up. It was that boy, Paul. He had come over and brought an extra blanket from the ship. Considering the people on the Ark had a bit more information now about Earth than they had had about two years ago, Pike had ordered the proper provisions be put into the dropship. Canteens, blankets, jackets, medicine, knives and the like. Paul had a blanket around his own shoulders, holding the sides closed around him with his left hand, holding the other blanket out to Beryl with his right._

 _Beryl took it, smiling gratefully up at him. "Thanks." She said quietly. She wrapped the blanket around her person. It wasn't nearly thick enough to protect her for long, but she supposed until they found shelter, it would have to do for now._

 _Paul lowered himself down, sitting next to her and looking out over the landscape of hills and rivers. "It's something to look at, huh?" Paul asked, smiling. Beryl nodded, but shrugged. "I guess. I mean, it beats having to look at the same, metal hallway all the time." Paul chuckled. "Yeah. You're right about that. It's Beryl, right?" Beryl nodded, looking at Paul. Paul said, "So, you can tell me to go shove it if you want for asking. But how did you get put in the skybox? You don't seem like the criminal type."_

 _Beryl let loose a small laugh. "Well, neither do you." Beryl nodded to where Blair was sitting next to Finley and West. "That girl_ _really_ _doesn't look like the criminal type. Paul followed Beryl's gaze and saw Blair. He chuckled again, nodding. "Yeah, you're right about that." Beryl sighed, thinking about her mother and how she had died, pain ripping through Beryl's chest. What was the point of hiding it? They were all in the same boat. They all were cast out by their own people and had been left to survive on their own, so why keep anything from each other?_

 _Beryl said grimly eyes finding and remaining fixated on a particularly large and wide rock, wondering worriedly if there was anyone or anything hiding behind it, "My mom died during the riots on the Ark. She was murdered. There were a lot of people that caused problems on the Ark during that time, I'm sure you remember." Paul nodded, eyebrows lifted in emphasis for how shitty he remembered it being. Beryl smiled grimly. It had been like that book that she remembered her friend from when she was little, Dax liking reading to her before he had been thrown into the skybox and sent down to Earth with the one hundred that had been sent down to Earth first. Dante's Inferno._

 _All the crowds, screaming and hitting and banging. The only thing Beryl had been able to think of during that time had been the way the circles had been described in Dante's Inferno. Dax, he had been of Italian descent. And his father had left him that old, beat up book before the boy's father had been floated for stealing food for his family. Dax used to read it to Beryl. Beryl wasn't sure why at the time, but she always had loved it._

 _The book of course had been in English. As far as Dax knew, there were no Chinese versions on the Ark, so Beryl wouldn't be able to read them in Chinese, and neither of them knew any Italian (despite Dax's claims that his great-great-grandfather had been Italian), so English it had been._

 _The way Dax described the din and the horror throughout the book had made Beryl's mind wild with possibilities. She recalled some of those old stories that her paternal grandmother used to tell her. Stories that originated in China of Ox-Head and Horse-Face, beings that one would encounter in the Chinese underworld. The things that Dax read to Beryl about in Dante's Inferno didn't sound entirely different. She supposed now that the reason why she had liked the readings so much is because they reminded her of her grandmother._

 _Sure, it sounded seriously morbid. But everything that Beryl knew about Chinese mythology, she knew from her father's parents. And hearing the stories from that disturbing and incredibly long book from Dax had brought Beryl back to thinking about her grandmother and grandfather. Could she really complain?_

 _She smiled sadly, thinking about Dax. She missed him. He had been like a big brother to her. She knew that his mother had been involved with some dangerous people on the Ark. She knew now that Dax was dead. When she heard Dax's mother coming out of the shuttle of the Ark where news of the one hundred was being released and Dax's mother, Julia had been crying, Beryl had known with horror and dread, with tears falling from her face that Dax was dead._

 _She didn't know how it happened. But the rough information that she had gotten had told her and other people on the Ark that Dax had tried to kill someone because his mother was being used against him and so he had been killed in self-defense._

 _Whoever did it, Beryl didn't begrudge them at all. Dax had been used. The people on the Ark who had wanted Thelonius Jaha dead had used Julia against her son. And the end result had just been someone inevitably having to protect their own life._

 _Beryl blamed the people that had planned Jaha's near assassination. She blamed the man that almost killed Jaha, Bellamy Blake. But she didn't blame whoever it was that had killed Dax._

 _Dax had just been a good friend and a brother practically. And Beryl would miss him endlessly. But without him, those riots on the Ark had felt more and more like the descriptions of the nine circles of Hell in Dante's Inferno._

 _Crowds and crowds of people in the halls of the Ark, clambering for food and power and to get out and potentially escape and get to Earth. The number of crimes that had broken out during those riots had skyrocketed. Beryl shivered, recalling some of the attempted rapes she had heard about and a few of the successful ones where the victims had weakly and bloodily and bruised reached the medical wing of the Ark. It was one of those sights that made Beryl wish there_ _was_ _the same hell that her grandmother had described to her. One specific layer of the underworld, "Diyu" stuck out to her. The East side of hell. There was the "Cauldron of Boiling Oil." It was a layer of Hell-Diyu-the underworld, reserved for rapists, abusers and false accusers. Or the seventh circle of Hell that Dax had read to her about. A circle of violence. So that the rapists could be punished as horribly as they deserved to be punished._

 _Beryl would be happy with either place said rapists ended up. Whatever horrific punishment they got, they deserved._

 _From what Beryl had learned after reading about the seventh circle in Dante's Christian version of Hell, rapists were punished, yes, but for a backwards reason. They were punished not for violence against women, but for "stealing another man's property." That was as misogynistic as Beryl could imagine anyone Dante's era being. Still disgusting._

 _However, Beryl wanted the rapists, including the guard that tried to attack her to suffer for the right reasons. For violating fellow human beings. For taking away the victims' rights and safety. Beryl glanced at Paul. She wondered if any of those rapists were here. The thought, while sending a cold tremor of dread through her, was dismissed. Paul wasn't one of them, she told herself that. She wasn't sure if she believed that Pike wouldn't put any of those men in with them. Most of the rapists were of age, so if they were caught, they had been floated by now._

 _She thought about the short interactions she had had with some of the other boys. As far as she could tell, none of them struck her as rapists. But she knew that rapists didn't have a neon sign above them, signifying them as rapists. If it were that easy, then she'd know where and how to hide way, way better. And everyone would put a distance between themselves and the people with those signs._

 _But in the real world? Those signs did not exist._

 _There was no defining "vibe" that you got from a person that made you realize, 'oh, that's him. That's the rapist. Stay away from him.' Sure, some people got a "vibe" from that person, but not all people did. Beryl herself had to acknowledge that she wasn't good at picking up those kinds of things._

 _Still, Beryl found the trust coming easily. She shrugged. "I got stabbed a few times and a guard tried to attack me, I fought back and then got locked up for being involved in a fight. What about you?"_

 _Beryl looked at Paul, feeling her body tremble a little and her skin felt hot at revealing what had almost happened to her on the Ark. The guard that had looked at her, Terrence? She knew what he had wanted. And it had terrified her. When he had charged her on the Ark during the riots, she had acted and she had acted fast, even though her hands had been trembling the whole time. She was certain she hadn't killed him when she had stabbed him in the sides continually. But some part of her couldn't feel grateful for that, even though the recollection of the blood leaving his body left her sick._

 _Paul's eyes widened and Beryl wondered if he understood what she meant when she told him that the guard had "attacked her." If he did, he didn't show it._

 _Paul hesitated and answered after a long pause, "I…uh…uh, my mom and I stole a bunch of plants that were drug plants and sold them on the black market for more food. My mom was floated." Anger flew briefly over his face. "And I was tossed into the skybox."_

 _Beryl gawked at Paul, hearing those words. It was almost comical. And if it weren't for the fact that Paul's mom had been executed as a result, it_ _would_ _have been comical._

" _I'm…" Beryl said sadly. "I'm sorry about your mom, Paul."_

 _Paul nodded, smiling. "Sorry about yours too, Beryl."_

 _Beryl smiled, Paul's words meaning a lot, even though the sentiment was of course, the obvious thing to say. Beryl looked out ahead at the landscape, her long, black ponytail against her back, "Do you have anyone back on the Ark that you miss? Or who would miss you?"_

 _She noticed Paul shake his head out of the corner of her eye. "Nah. Most of the kids I hung out with, hung out with me only because they wanted the drugs I was offering. And the one kid I considered a friend was older than me when he committed his crime. Stealing. His name was Tom. He got floated. He was the one person I was close with on the Ark besides my mom. And he's dead too. So I kind of don't give a shit about anyone missing me. Because they won't. How about you? Your dad or anyone else miss you? Any boyfriend?"_

 _Beryl almost sputtered at Paul's question. Never mind that she genuinely felt really bad for Paul. His situation sounded almost identical to hers. Her losing her mom and Dax, it wasn't that different at all from Paul losing his mom and his friend, Tom. But the question he asked her threw her off guard. It was a reasonable enough question to ask, she supposed. But still, the thought of her having a boyfriend was actually hilarious to her._

 _Not that she didn't like guys or anything, it was just that she never found herself attracted to anyone._

 _She shook her head. "No. No boyfriends. I've never been attracted to them. No offense." She said the last words quickly, hoping that Paul didn't take offense to her words. Paul smirked and shook his head. "None taken." His eyes then narrowed in thought and he asked, "It's none of my business, but are you…I mean…um, are you gay?"_

 _It took a moment for Beryl to absorb that question and she almost felt like she should be blushing, even though she didn't. She snorted, a little surprised by Paul's bluntness, "You're right, it's not your business. But to answer your question, no, I'm not. At least, I don't_ _think_ _I am. I haven't just been not attracted to boys. But I haven't been attracted to really…anyone, ever. It's weird, I know. But I've never been sexually attracted to anyone, as far as I can remember."_

 _It felt incredibly strange for Beryl to be admitting this. Only her mother and Dax had known about this. Dax had just nodded and joked that at least he wouldn't have to worry about having to threaten anyone into behaving around his kid sister. Her mother hadn't understood, but had been supportive. She just wanted her daughter to be happy and she worried that this would hold Beryl back from finding someone that would make her happy. Still, Beryl hadn't_ _felt_ _less happy for not being attracted to anyone, boy or girl. She just had enjoyed normal life and what little stability she could find on the Ark after everything._

 _But she always had wondered while lying down in bed and given time to think alone while her mother slept._ _Was_ _there something wrong with her, because she wasn't attracted to anyone? Never, in her whole life, had she ever experienced sexual attraction to anyone. Male or female or non-binary._

 _She tried to understand why or how. But she just didn't know. She knew there were different sexualities, but she didn't know where she fit in. But there it was. She never once felt sexually motivated in any way. Towards anyone. She was able to sexually please herself, as she learned. She could masturbate. But when she tried to visual another person in some way, it didn't really have a strong effect, at all. But masturbation worked._

 _So she just couldn't figure out what it was that got her turned on. She would be doing something as normal and mundane as cleaning up the space around her in her and her mother's bunk and suddenly, for no reason at all, without thinking of anyone, she would be turned on. But either way, Beryl could safely say that she had never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. So to answer Paul's question, no. No one in that regard was waiting for her._

" _Yeah, no." Beryl said shaking her head. "I've never been attracted to anyone, ever. I know, that probably sounds weird." Beryl looked at Paul who shrugged. "It's not weird." The boy said. "People are different. People are attracted to different things. I mean, I'm attracted to both men_ _and_ _women." At Beryl's startled look, Paul shrugged. "What? No reason to be ashamed of being bisexual, right?"_

 _Beryl shook her head, feeling slightly ridiculous for being startled by such information. Because who the hell cared if someone was sexually attracted to both men and women?_

" _No, there isn't any reason." Beryl acknowledged. "I just figured you'd be more self-conscious about it." Paul shook his head. "No way. We've been thrown out of the Ark and our moms are dead. Why keep it a secret? Fuck the people on the Ark. Who cares what they think. And my mom was happy for me, no matter who I ended up with."_

 _Beryl nodded, smiling. She understood that kind of affection. Her mother, she knew just had wanted her to be happy. Despite all the madness in the Ark, her mother had just wanted her to be happy. She knew that happiness was rare for their family, considering how them being Chinese was stigmatized a great deal by those who were white and in power, but her mother had wanted the best for her, as all mothers did for their children._

 _She was about to ask Paul how long he had been in the skybox for, when a nervous voice cried out from behind them. "Uh, guys?" Paul and Beryl turned to where one of the others stood. It was the shorter boy with brown hair and blue eyes who had a necklace hanging from his neck, under his green shirt. The boy's name, as they had learned while waiting here for the others, was Glenn. Glenn was pointing to something out at a small cluster of trees to the left of the dropship. Glenn said nervously, "I don't want to interrupt anyone, or make anyone panic, but it looks like there are people coming."_

 _As soon as Glenn said that, Beryl and Paul jumped up practically from the ground, walking over to the boy. Simone and Sabine who were both watching Lorena, grabbed their sister's hands and looked at where Glenn was pointing, Sabine standing protectively in front of the younger girl. Blair squeezed closer to West and Finley where the three of them were sitting by the rocks. Finley and West walked closer to Glenn, looking at the direction he was pointing._

 _Bailey and Kristin tensed up, eyes right on the forest that Glenn was facing. Bailey glanced at Kristin, wondering if she was ready. They had no training since there had been no war to speak of, despite the riots on the Ark, Bailey's parents had taught her how to defend herself during the riots, but nothing close to what was described the Grounders being capable of. Bailey doubted that Kristin had the training needed for it either. But they both remained ready, knowing they'd have to be._

 _Christopher was tense, cracking his knuckles, ready for a fight, trying to ignore the feeling like he should run away instead._

 _The more unnerved ones, Blair, Hodge, Cameron, Edmund, Frank and Avery backed away, just a few inches, even though they all knew that that would do nothing. Wouldn't save them if they were being attacked right now._

 _Martin sided up next to Cody, glancing at Bailey, Kristin and Christopher. He envied them. He wasn't sure he could be so brave right now. He looked at Cody. "How fucked do you think we are right now?" He asked. Cody didn't even face him. The only thing that she was looking at in shock and pure disbelief when she saw the very first man that appeared on horseback before them was what the man had on the right side of his neck._

 _The horse was startling enough. Big, muscled and so much bigger than they all thought horses actually were. The only kinds of evidence they had of how big a horse was were pictures. They had had no idea how big they actually were. The first horse was a dark brown color. Everyone, save for Cody gasped at the horse, her eyes still on the man. The man was huge and muscled as well. He was bald, with a black beard on his face. He was white, which was what made what Cody saw on the man's neck all the more puzzling._

 _On the big, white man's neck, was a dark handprint. A painted handprint that Cody recognized. It had a spiral in the middle. If Cody needed any further proof that that symbol was what she thought it was, all she had to do was look down at the horse and see the very same symbol painted all along the horse's chest with white paint._

 _Cody's heart thundered, but it wasn't because of the small army that was beginning to gather behind the man. The others behind her backed away, gasping, but she couldn't back away. Her brain couldn't function right now._

 _What was on all of these peoples' necks and faces and what was painted on their horses was a Hopi symbol._ _Her_ _tribe's symbol._

 _The Hopi hand._

 _The very first, muscled white man gestured towards the group that was backing away and said coldly in a language, to Cody's growing horror, she didn't recognize, "Taltre krem."_

 _The many warriors behind the large man charged. Cody didn't understand what was happening here. Her mind wasn't processing this. Somehow, when three of the warriors on horseback dropped onto the rocks down below the hill where the group was, walking towards them with large, dark nets stretched out between the warriors making Cody's companions gasp and back away further, Cody's brain finally jumpstarted._

 _Though she hadn't understood what the warrior above had just said, as an act of desperation, she remembered the very first language she had ever been taught. Before English. Her tribe's language. Even if she didn't recognize what they said, maybe they'd recognize what_ _she_ _said._

 _She tried to hold her ground as another, slim woman warrior got close, this woman, to Cody's relief, wasn't white and had the same hand symbol on the side of her face. Cody called out to the woman in Hopi tongue._

" _Wait!" She yelled in her tribe's language. "I'm Hopi!"_

 _To Cody's horror, she got no response. Just a cocked head from the woman. Cody's mouth parted a little and her heart fell. They didn't recognize what she was saying. They didn't recognize_ _her._ _In Cody's shock and horror, she barely registered the woman moving her horse forward and throwing a net over her. Only when the net covered the girl, did Cody struggle. But that was no use. For she felt a blow to the back of her head and she cried out, vision going black as she collapsed to the ground._

" _Cody!" Martin yelled, shocked, horror written all over his face. He didn't have long to process all this, for the horses and their riders were on him and the rest of his group soon, charging at them and throwing nets over them. Other warriors had jumped off and grabbed the teenagers, forcing their arms behind their backs and chaining them up. Martin was thrown down to the ground, arms behind his back as he heard everyone around him crying out and struggling. He saw Christopher swinging his fists at one huge guy, and being hit across the face in response, being sent thrown to the ground, blood flying out from the large boy's nose._

 _Edmund was pinned up against the metal side of the dropship. He yelled at the man that had him up by the neck, words strained, "Please!" The man that had him laughed in his face and punched him across the face, Edmund going limp and unconscious in only seconds._

 _Finley, Avery, West, Blair, Frank, Beryl, Paul, Hodge, their struggles meant nothing. They were all subdued and restrained._

 _Lorena was grabbed and Simone screamed, leaping at the man that grabbed her little sister. Both she and Sabine were beaten down as soon as they tried to help Lorena. Lorena screamed her sisters' names as she watched them being hit to the ground and tied up. Lorena had ropes tied around her arms, tears streaming down her face at the sight of Simone and Sabine being held down and restrained._

 _Kristin was lifted up with another warrior's arm around her neck, cutting off her air supply. Bailey tried to run over to her, but was punched in the stomach, making her double over in pain as a net was thrown over her. Another beefed up Grounder walked up, holding a short club of some kind and beat her over the head. Bailey cried out and collapsed._

 _Kristin struggled, but to no avail. The man that had her in his grasp tightened his hold and Kristin stiffened up, before sagging, head leaning forward. Martin gasped, heart pounding, pleading with any luck they might have that Kristin wasn't dead, just passed out. The man dropped the limp Kristin to the ground next to Bailey._

 _All around the horse riding warriors, one of the Azgeda men turned to the other and growled in their language, "Genow has been sent to join Flynt with his group. They'll capture the other six and bring them to Queen Nia." His companion nodded. She glowered over their various captures who were being lifted up and dragged onto the horses and carried by the nets. She turned to the girl who was lying unconscious on the ground behind her. The girl that had tried to communicate with them. Never mind them. They would find anything that might be useful to them later when they had these weak Sky People in their dungeons._

 _And Genow and Flynt and their warriors would bring the last six into their dungeons._

 _As the many warriors dragged the captive children away, rolling was heard throughout the area, as a series of other warriors came, pushing a massive, vertical plank of wood with a horizontal plank that was just as big, with wheels under them. The massive device was being carted along at the front by several large, muscled horses, their hooves clopping over the stones and muck. The reins tied from them to the machine helped pull it along as the warriors pushed._

 _The Sky prisoners watched with confusion, awe and fear as the machine passed them, while they were dragged off, some of them-the awake ones, tied by ropes and thrown over horses in front of the horse's riders. The ones unconscious were hauled up and carried over the horse's saddles in their nets. Normally their prisoners would be handled even more roughly, but they couldn't risk harming the hostages they could use against Wanheda._

 _Standing behind the first two generals, Rokren watched as the large, metal ship that the Sky People had come down in was being pushed by hundreds of other warriors onto the Heaver for it to be brought to the hills where the queen's fortress was. Rokren snorted and leaned over to Bayart, grinning as he spoke in their native language, his bushy, pale white eyebrows up to his light hair. "It's time to weed out the weaklings. I wonder how many of these little Sky shits will still be alive after a couple of years of training, even_ _with_ _Wanheda's guidance. By the way, why do we even_ _need_ _that thing?" He nodded to the metal load now on the Heaver._

 _The larger Bayart let out a hearty laugh, grin showing off a yellowed, toothy smile. "Not many of those children will live. And the queen wants us to bring it. Says it will be proof to Wanheda that these are indeed Sky People." The dark-haired Bayart snorted, grinning at the mostly unconscious prisoners. "And how many of them are going to live by the end? My guess? More than half of 'em will be dead by the end of next month." He nodded to the net covered and bound figures being hauled over. "If they keep being as easy to take down as they were today? Forget it. They'll die one by one. Too bad. It would have been nice to have longer lasting hostages we could have used against Wanheda." Rokren smirked at Bayart. He understood what the older meant. Between brutal training and sending these fools off to fight their battles for them? There probably wouldn't even be seven or eight of them left._

 _They'd be dead within the year, Bayart was sure of this._

 _He turned to Rokren, grinning again, "I'll wager you fifty gold pieces that there will only be at the most, six or seven of them left by the end of this year." Rokren laughed. "Why wager anything? They're not going to live long. You want to know what I think? They'll be dead in four months." Bayart laughed, a deep bellowing sound._

 _Still, nonetheless, they needed to keep these prisoners alive for now. So they ordered the other warriors to put the fur they had brought over onto the prisoners so that they didn't freeze to death before they even got to the dungeons. Bayart and Rokren heard barks of confirmation and watched as long coats and heaps of fur were wrapped around the tied up prisoners, despite their protests._

 _Neither Bayart, nor Rokren were to know this, but it would be the two of them, not any of their new captives who wouldn't live to see the end of the year._

 **Present day**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

Clarke was cleaned up. The blood that had dried all over her hands and over her furs had been washed away. The paint spot on her forehead and the blood that had shot back at her was cleaned up too. The servants padded over the wet cloths over her face, hands and chest, careful with their actions. Outside, just beyond the castle's walls, was a steel pike in front of the doorway of the base. On the top of that pike, sat a skinless, decapitated head that once belonged to the now very dead Carl Emerson, the last Mountain Man.

The head stood on that pike like a warning sign to any who entered the base and dared to raise a weapon towards the queen and those loyal to her.

All of the flayed skin had been fed to the dogs.

And the mass of meat and muscle, filled with Emerson's blood, all dark and red and veiny had been tossed out into the wilderness. Animals could devour Emerson's meat. Emerson would have no hope of reincarnating. His skinless, headless body had been cast out into the further regions outside surrounding the queen's direct territory. His cut out heart? That had been put in a ceramic urn and boiled down. The blood from the large organ would be used as paint for warriors hands for when the warriors eventually were to go off to battle.

After Clarke watched the distribution of Emerson's completely destroyed body, her loved ones came to see her after she was all cleaned up and Emerson's body parts were hauled off.

When the massive, tall, wooden doors opened up with a low, long creaking noise, Clarke hadn't been sure what she had been expecting. Her brothers and sisters to not be able to look her in the eye? Farron to not be present? This horrifying skinning being the last straw for her family? She didn't know. But what she wasn't expecting was Farron to come running over right _at_ her with the speed of a racing horse and jumping up into Clarke's arms. Mechanically, with her mouth gaping open, Clarke reached her arms up and hugged Farron to herself, only because if she hadn't, he would have dropped down to the floor.

"Klark!" Farron cried out, arms tight around her neck, burying his face in her hair, "Are you okay?!"

Clarke's eyes widened, startled, she backed her head away, pushing Farron back so that she could look at him. She looked past the boy at her family who were standing in the doorway. Clarke's heart that had felt cold whenever she thought of Farron or any of her family seeing her after her butchering of Emerson suddenly felt warmer than it had felt since she entered the arena to execute the last Mountain Man. From the right door to the left door stood her family. Sabine, Simone, Lorena, Mario, Parker, Frank, Kozzar, Blair, David, Christopher, Hodge, Beryl, Finley, Glenn, Rora, Casey, Jesse, Bailey, Kristin, Paul, and the others all around. Edmund and West would still be guarding the queen. Martin was still keeping an eye on Mathias. Clarke was startled, looking down at Farron. "Sweetheart," She said to the boy, "You're…" She swallowed as she forced the question out, meeting the boy's blue eyed gaze. "You're not afraid of me?"

Farron shook his head. "No." He said. "Kosena, I could never be afraid of you." His hands reached up and he grabbed Clarke's hands in his. "I love you, Klark. You did what you had to. The last Mountain Man needed to die. I know that." Clarke sighed, wincing. This was no world for children to grow up in. She was only grateful that she and the twenty-six had been released into the queen's custody when they were. Because if not, Tenmar may have forced his son to kill by now. But because they had each looked after Farron and made sure he didn't have to kill anyone, a semblance of Farron's innocence had been spared.

Clarke was utterly grateful to her family for sharing effort in sparing Farron from ever having to kill anyone, whether in self-defense or in battle. Them being here kept Tenmar from forcing the boy into shedding his first blood. As long as Clarke could help it, she wanted to keep it that way. The boy having to witness what she did to Emerson, however, most likely had done its damage to Farron. "Farron," Clarke started quietly, "I…you never should have had to watch that."

Farron shook his head. "I told you. You just did what you had to. And I'm glad that you're free of him now." Farron smiled, hands squeezing Clarke's as he repeated his earlier words. "Love you, kosena." Clarke sucked in a breath, unable to hold back some of her emotions. She leaned down and embraced the boy tightly. Farron wrapped his arms around her neck. She ruffled the back of his hair, smiling. She glanced up at her family, watching as they walked over one by one. Mario nodded to the door and Clarke saw Dallas and Cody walking in with a tripod, hefting it between the two of them.

A second later, Cameron emerged with a camera in hand. So did Avery. Bobbi emerged behind Avery with a stack of papers. Clarke nodded. The time had arrived for Clarke to send a video to the Sky People in the Trikru territory. Clarke nodded to them, kissing Farron's forehead, and standing up fully. Farron released her, smiling up at her. She looked down at the boy. "You can stay and watch if you want. You just need to not make any noise while I'm giving the message." Farron nodded. Clarke slowly let the boy's hand go. She gestured to the chair next to the wall. There was enough light from the fires to provide illumination for the video. She'd just need to sit down and record everything. She went over to the chair and dropped down. She knew her face wasn't covered in blood. Because she had checked thoroughly before. She checked her hands. No blood.

Clarke faced the members of the twenty-six that had come to help set up the messages that she was going to send out. Clarke needed to send a video of her telling the rest of her people in the Trikru's territory that it was safer for them in Azgeda territory than in Trikru territory. A necessary lie if she wanted to stay in Nia's good graces and if she wanted to get the rest of Camp Jaha out of Trikru land and under the protection of an actual tribe. Start the integration process.

And to do that? The people of Camp Jaha would need proof that it was really _her_ that was telling them to come to the Ice Nation, not some random piece of paper with what might be her writing all over it. So a video was necessary. Clarke was already in the chair she was going to be sitting in when the video started recording. Mario and Bobbi were setting up the camera on the tripod. That weird stash of 20th and 21st century stuff they found hadn't just had gasoline, grenades, knives and guns, but plenty of other items. Including CDs, CD players, cameras, tripods and other tech that had been popular back then.

Farron had decided to sit on one of the carved out steps of the wall. It was like a shelf for sitting and Farron had just dropped down to watch. Clarke had a hard time fighting the overwhelming urge not to smile at him every second, chest tight. He didn't hate her. He wasn't scared of her. Despite everything she had done and everything he knew she had done. Clarke tore her gaze from her dear son and turned back to the others. Clarke cocked her head at Mario and Bobbi, "Should I find it weird that you guys know how to handle this stuff?" "Oh, bite me." Mario said, not looking up from the camera that he was adjusting for even a second. "It's not that hard to figure out. Besides, my dad loves cameras. His grandparents had a bunch and took a lot of videos of his family before his grandparents boarded the Ark." Clarke nodded. Her dad had had a lot of tech too before his arrest. Why shouldn't he have? He was the top mechanic of the Ark before her mother and Thelonius Jaha had gotten him killed.

Blair came over, carrying a couple of sheets of paper between her hands. After Clarke helped with this video to the Ark people in the Trikru territory, she would write a letter to the Milgred queen, Razeeta, asking for permission for her and a group of their people to come to Razeeta's kingdom.

Clarke thought about Razeeta and Jorsua. About the two women who she was going to be accepting as her mothers. Who some part of her _wanted_ to be her mothers, despite what they did to people. She knew that by sending this letter, she would not be able to go back. She was certain of what Razeeta and Jorsua's feelings towards her were. So she knew that if she began to see them, began to open up the conversation to a possible bond between them, she knew she would not be able to close that particular door.

Even with that knowledge, Clarke found herself calm. Far too calm. She had already decided to close the door on Lexa and on Anya. And some part of her had chosen to close the door on her biological mother too. She was going to cut the bonds, if there were any left, between her and Abby Griffin. That decision was made. Because somewhere, deep down, Clarke already knew that those ties between her and Abby, had been severed a long time ago. They were severed. The only thing she required was their cooperation in bringing the rest of the Sky People in Trikru territory over to the Ice Nation.

And now new bonds were to be made between her and the Milgred Queens. Clarke, without hesitation, already decided what she said in the letter and faced the camera as she prepared her speech to the people in the Trikru territory. She hoped Wells, Raven, Bellamy, Lincoln and Finn would listen to her at least, even if Abby, Kane and everyone else wouldn't.

 **Author's note:**

 **Taltre: Capture**

 **Krem: Them**

 **So yeah, the skinning scene. Whew, can we say gratuitous?**

 **So I tried to make it clear that Beryl is asexual. I don't know if how clear it was. But there you are. Hope I portrayed it well. If I got it inaccurate, please tell me, I will fix it.**

 **And if I get anything wrong in portraying the Chinese, Sioux and Hopi culture, please tell me and I'll fix it too.**

 **And yes, the "must be Wednesday" remark from Wells is from Buffy originally, I think.**

 **This isn't a rant, more of an explanation. Hears gasps all around me. Does anyone need medical services over the shock? Except Bellarkers and any Bellboy fans. I couldn't care less. Here's the explanation for the Sowlas storyline. As for the whole Hopi and Sowlas subplot, I feel like this was very necessary. Why, you ask? Simple. Because we see this symbol, the "Hopi hand" all over the Azgeda. And the queen is white…why? In fact the majority of the Azgeda I've seen are white. With some people of color.**

 **This leaves us with two possibilities. Either A. Fucking Rothenberg wanted to have American Indian symbols** _ **without**_ **the American Indians-basically like every racist would. Which I completely believe is the case of what he did. Or B. (a much less likely possibility), he wanted to write it** _ **in**_ **the series that white people had taken away the symbols and it was going to be acknowledged in the series that that was a form of prejudice. I'll let you guess which of these possibilities are more likely.**

 **If you're going to have white people sporting around symbols that basically belong to and were invented by non-white people, can you give an explanation, please? Did the whites in Azgeda drive out the American Indian population? Unless they're going to acknowledge racism within the tribes, there is no explanation for why there are so many white people at the head of power and only like one or two people of color in power who we see in Polis on that council in season 3. Maybe three if we add Anya. Four if you want to add Indra, though I thought she was a guard, not a general.**

 **The Sankru symbol is also American Indian. I don't know which tribe (in the real world) it's from, but it's American Indian. Also the Ingranonakru, the "Plains Tribe?" Many American Indian "Plains People" come to mind. But the "Hopi hand," the symbol used for Azgeda is as the name suggests, a Hopi symbol, an American Indian symbol. So the Sowlas are kind of a storyline I feel like** _ **should**_ **have happened. The Sowlas will show up later when Cody's storyline gets established.**

 **I couldn't help myself from putting that Harry Potter reference in this chapter. I frigging love Harry Potter.**


	25. The Beginning: The truth is dangerous

**WolfyVannah5:** **Hey, who says that there needs to be only one choice? There _is_ such a thing as joint custody. So, "shrugs." As for Wells? Wells will probably handle it okay. As you can see, he's getting pretty ruthless too. He'll just be sad and pissed at how much shit Clarke's had to go through. But he'll probably take to it okay. Of course, how will Clarke react to Wells's schemes? Well, I guess we'll have to find out.**

 **Trigger warnings for violence, several mentions of rape, murder and several mentions of cannibalism.**

 **Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 25: The Beginning Part 5: The truth is dangerous:**

 **Azgeda territory: Norway**

 **Six months and two weeks ago**

 _The poor bear had been thoroughly hacked through with the small switchblade after many, many incisions. Casey, Bobbi, David, Mario, Jesse and Parker's hands were hurting with all the cuts they had made and how many times they had done it. Their arms were covered with dark blood. The brown fur was cut away and lay in small dripping piles on the ground._

 _Casey stared at the poor beast with nothing but sympathy in her eyes. This poor big guy. He didn't deserve this. She had no idea if it was male or not. But either way, poor bear. She fought the need to pet the poor animal's head. Something about that struck her as morbid. Petting a dead animal's head? That was a little too morbid. It hadn't occurred to Casey, until Mario mentioned it, as she cut away some more pieces of meat, avoiding cutting open the bear's stomach that she noticed that Bobbi hadn't said much._

 _Mario's concerned voice caught Casey's attention. "Hey, Shaffer, you okay?" He asked, looking at the dark skinned girl next to him. Casey looked up at Mario, then turned to Bobbi. Bobbi's mouth was in a hard line and her left hand was to her stomach. "You haven't been talking for a while."_

 _Casey inspected Bobbi. True to Mario's words, Casey realized she hadn't heard Bobbi speak for a while. There had been the expected commentary about how disgusting cutting the bear up looked from David and Parker. Mario had been making Star Wars jokes about how he had thought bears smelled bad "on the outside." Parker had disgustedly grumbled about how she was_ _NOT_ _going to eat any of the bear. Jesse had calmly remarked, "Fine, starve then. More for us."_

 _While this had brought on some more banter, Bobbi, Casey realized had remained quiet._

" _Bobbi," Casey said, narrowing her eyes, "You okay?"_

 _Bobbi looked blatantly like a deer caught in headlights. She then nodded. "I'm fine. She said, twitching as if uncomfortable. I just need to go to the bathroom. Parker, Jesse, Casey, can one of you keep watch and make sure that well…you know." Bobbi nodded at Mario and David._

 _She added quickly afterwards, "No offense."_

 _It took David a moment to figure out what she meant, then his eyes widened and he glared. "Hey! Offense taken! I'm not like that."_

 _Mario flung his left hand away from himself into David's stomach, making the larger boy gasp and stare at Mario. Mario glared at David. "Get over yourself, Davy." Mario said, calling David that most likely for condescending reasons. "It isn't about you. Girls being careful around boys isn't about making boys feel like they're rapists or anything like that." Mario stared in meaning at David. "It's about girls feeling_ _safe._ _How does she know that you and me aren't rapists? She just met us."_

 _At David's stunned look, Mario turned around and faced Bobbi nodding, "No offense taken."_

 _Bobbi nodded after a while, looking at Mario strangely, not having expected this reaction. She turned to look at Casey who also was startled by Mario's insight._

" _Can you come with me, Casey?" She asked._

 _Casey nodded. "Sure." She put the knife down by the bear, wiping her hands on her pants. She would never wipe blood on her jacket. The jacket was all she had left of her dad._

 _She walked after Bobbi as Bobbi went around the others, going towards a selected couple of bushes just behind the trees closest to them. Casey called to the others as they went, "If we don't come out in fifteen minutes, assume there's a Grounder and grab the knife. Or go get the others."_

 _Jesse and Mario both nodded. Parker verbally confirmed._

 _Bobbi walked around the bushes and checked to make sure no one could see them from that angle. They couldn't. Casey stationed herself on a rock jutting out next to the bushes and turned away from Bobbi. The usual mindset on the Ark was that it was "okay" for girls to see other girls naked, because they were both girls. But Casey, being homosexual and learning from a young age that she was homosexual, always thought that was just a way of saying "girls can't rape. They're too weak." It was stupid and sexist. Girls were too weak to be sexual predators? Bullshit. It went right along with the mindset that men couldn't be raped because they'd enjoy it, if it was done by a woman. So Casey regarded sexual harassment as sexual harassment, regardless of who did it._

 _Her back was to Bobbi._

 _Bobbi glanced at Casey's turned back. She wasn't sure if Casey had turned away to be polite or didn't want to seem like she was doing anything inappropriate. Either way, Bobbi was grateful for it. They might both be girls, but Bobbi had always felt self-conscious about her looks._

 _She undid her belt and crouched down, pulling her pants off. Below her was a pile of leaves. She winced as she felt the cramps in her. She hadn't mentioned this because Mario and David were in earshot, despite Mario's startling insight, but Bobbi could feel what was wrong with her. Cramps, plus when she had gone to the bathroom last on the Ark, she had seen slight pink on the toilet paper?_

 _It was happening. Her time of the month. That was why she needed Casey to help her. She didn't just need a lookout. She needed someone that might find something to use as a sanitary napkin. Bobbi sure didn't know what to use. And she didn't have any sanitary napkins. She would have asked the guards for some and given that men tended to be more horrified by periods than by rape or molestation or sexual harassment, they would have done it quickly. But she had made the discovery just before being forced into the dropship on Pike's orders._

 _Much to Bobbi's aggravation, yes, there it was. She looked down at her inner thighs as she peed and saw the blood start to come out too. Some of it ran down her leg. She winced and fought a groan. Just great. Just fucking great. She looked up at Casey, reassuring herself that since Casey was a girl too, she should be familiar with this._

 _When Bobbi finished peeing, she prepared herself for the humiliation. Why did her periods always have to pop up at literally the worst time?_

 _Bobbi swallowed and called over, "Casey?" Casey turned her head just slightly, making sure her head wasn't turning fully to Bobbi, but indicating to Bobbi that she heard her._

" _Yeah?" Casey asked._

 _Bobbi sighed. Here it went. "I kind of need help with something. Um…it's kind of my time of the month."_

 _Casey visibly stiffened and whirled around, as soon as she did, gasping and covering her eyes quickly. "Sorry," She mumbled, skin flushing a dark pink. "You just surprised me. I should have asked first before turning around."_

 _Bobbi fought a small, weak laugh. "No," She said. "It's okay. But I need something that will soak up the blood. I mean, I don't have any pads or tampons."_

 _Casey nodded, still keeping her eyes blocked. "Right. Okay. Um. Let me think."_

 _Casey tried to be quick about coming up with something. She wasn't that big a history buff, but what did women use as pads_ _before_ _pads? Rags seemed likely. She remembered this one trivia about wool._

 _She stepped closer, keeping her head down and only knowing how close she was to the other girl by noticing the left-footed sneaker sticking out to her right. "Okay," She repeated. "I'm going to be honest, Bobbi. I don't know what to do here. I don't know anything about non-pad things that can be used. I've heard of a lot of different things being used. Rags, wool, maybe grass-"_

" _Grass?!" Bobbi hissed, making Casey tense. "And for goodness sake, can you take your hands down? You have my permission. Besides, I kind of can't get something to use if we don't both look for something."_

 _Casey breathed out, hesitating and dropped her hands eventually. She turned her head and looked at where Bobbi was crouching, her pants around her ankle and her jacket covering the back of her lower torso and making sure that her lower torso was jutting out over the leaves so that the blood didn't spill into her underpants, but onto the leaves._

 _That gave Casey a thought. "What about leaves?" She asked, looking at Bobbi curiously._

" _Leaves?" Bobbi gawked. "I'm not putting leaves in my damn underpants." Casey sighed, bringing her right hand to her forehead, feeling the growing frustration just bubbling there._

" _Well, we need to use_ _something_ _." Casey pointed out. "Do you just want your period to soak through your pants?" Casey pointed out, taking note of Bobbi's grey pants. "Those aren't black, you know."_

 _Bobbi looked down at her pants and winced. "I know, I know." She shook her head. "Of all times for me to choose to wear a light colored set of pants." Casey chuckled. She knew the feeling. It was why most of the time she wore black pants. Because she wasn't good at keeping track of when she had her periods._

" _I definitely can relate." Casey admitted. "But that's the point. You need something to absorb the blood. If you don't get anything, you'll stain your pants."_

 _Bobbi nodded. "I_ _know._ _"_ _She said in annoyance. "But I'm not using fucking leaves."_

 _Casey nodded. "Okay, okay. Then what_ _do_ _you want to use? We don't exactly have access to a lot of options right now."_

 _Bobbi sighed and looked around the forest, trying to find something, anything. "God damn it." She mumbled. What could she use? The leaves below looked too rough. The other leaves on the trees looked different, green and smooth enough to work, but really, leaves? Was she really_ _that_ _desperate? Bobbi would have laughed at that thought previously. Yes, she_ _was_ _that desperate. It was dumb to think that she wasn't. But were there other options? Casey had mentioned wool, but they didn't have wool. The grass all around them again, like the leaves on the ground looked too rough. Casey had mentioned rags. Aside from their clothing, what did they have?_

 _Bobbi groaned, wincing. "Okay, I have a disgusting idea." She said, looking down at her jacket._

 _Casey lifted her head. "Yeah?"_

 _Bobbi's hands went from the waistline of her pants to her jacket's buttons. "I can rip off pieces of my shirt and use that."_

 _Casey's eyes widened. Never mind widened. Her eyes bulged. Bobbi was going to use her shirt?_

" _Whoa, what?" She demanded, mouth dropping. She knew that they'd need to get inventive, but that was not at all what she had in mind._

 _Bobbi moved her thin jacket's right flap back, grabbing her shirt's end, gripping it and trying to rip it. Casey groaned. This was going to go really, really badly._

 _Bobbi tried to rip some more and Casey halted her actions. "Whoa, whoa, easy. This isn't going to work. Not just by pulling." Bobbi gave Casey an aggravated look. "Well, how_ _do_ _you expect me to rip the shirt?"_

 _Casey fought the urge to grumble, "I don't expect you to rip it at all." But instead, she said, "We need something sharp. Like that knife back with the bear."_

 _Bobbi scoffed. "There's no WAY I'm letting a knife covered with bear blood near a shirt I'm going to put in my damn pants, Casey."_

 _Casey rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay." She said. "Alright. Let's try together."_

 _Bobbi nodded, smiling. She grabbed the right side of the bottom of her shirt and Casey leaned forward, grabbing it too. They began to pull together. Casey almost laughed at how comically hard it was to rip a damn, thin shirt._

 _Bobbi said quietly, "I'm sorry about all this." Casey shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I'm very familiar with this kind of thing." She chuckled. "I remember when I had my first period. I think I was ten or something. I was crying my eyes out, until my mom told me that it was perfectly normal."_

 _Bobbi chuckled, a sympathetic look in her eye. She nodded. "Yeah, I don't really remember my first, but I remember always finding it painful as shit."_

 _Casey nodded. To distract Bobbi from any possible cramps right now, she mumbled, "Let's see it this way, we have other stuff back at the dropship that we could use." Bobbi nodded. "That's good." She answered._

 _Just when they heard Bobbi's shirt begin to give way, the ripping noise filling their ears, new sounds hit their ears that made them pause._

 _Clop, clop, clop._

 _Bobbi and Casey looked at each other, confused. What was that noise?_

 _The clopping noise continued and got louder, telling both girls that it was getting closer._

 _Then there was a harsh, shrieking noise that filled the air, making them jump and Bobbi decided to surrender any plan that she might have had to use something to absorb her menstrual blood and just yanked her pants up, grumbling, "Screw it" under her breath._

 _The shrieking noise they heard? It sounded like a loud, bellowing, "Neigghhhhh!"_

 _There were multiple shrieks of this type. Bobbi got up from where she had been crouching, looking around frantically. Casey looked around too, alarmed. What the hell was that noise?_

 _Mario's voice was suddenly thrown at them from behind the trees. "Guys!" He yelled, "I'm sorry, but we've gotta go! There are Grounders coming!"_

 _Casey and Bobbi looked at each other, fear in each other's eyes and bolted from their spot. Never mind worrying about the blood. There were people that were going to try to kill them coming._

 _They went up the hill quickly and went around the trees and the bushes. Mario was next to a rock, behind the trees, keeping his face turned away from both girls. Casey called out to Mario, "It's okay. You can look." Mario started turning back to them. Casey glanced around the area. She narrowed her eyes. She spotted David, Parker and Jesse._

 _But she saw no signs of Grounders. But still, they heard the clopping noise. And they heard the "neighhhing" noise again._

" _Mario," Bobbi said, "I don't see any Grounders."_

 _Mario shook his head, bright green eyes shimmering with panic. "That noise!" He hissed. "Haven't you ever heard that noise before? Haven't you ever seen a Youtube video of a horse? I've seen a bunch of Youtube videos. Of horses. They make that noise. And the clopping noise? That's the noise their hooves make on solid ground."_

 _Bobbi's eyes grew huge. Casey shivered. Horses. Horses didn't automatically mean that there were Grounders coming after them. There could be wild horses running towards them._

 _At least, that was what Casey hoped it was._

 _Apparently, the other three didn't share Casey's hope. David was backing away from the part of the forest where the clopping noise and the neighing was coming from._

 _Jesse tensed and Parker's fists clenched and she leaned down, scooping up the blood stained bladed knife that Casey had used to cut at the bear's flesh and meat, whirling around, facing the forest, armed now._

 _In seconds, shapes burst from the forest, leaves flying everywhere. The shapes that ripped out of the forest were several horses, brown, black, roan, white, speckled, grey, they all came running out, hooves pounding against the ground. On top of the horses, each were muscled, masked figures with fur clasped over their bodies and paint along their limbs and what little of their faces were revealed under the masks._

 _Parker wasn't even remotely ready for the sight in front of her. She cried out and dropped the knife, backing away. Jesse backed away, growing paler by the second._

 _Three of the eight people on horseback that had come after her leapt off their horses, running towards David, Jesse and Parker._

 _David gasped and after three seconds of standing there frozen in either shock or fear or both, balled up his right hand into a fist, and swung his right arm forward. The masked, fur covered Grounder closest to David reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling it up, then twisting it hard. David cried out as the man jumped on his back, David turned with the man's savage movement. The man rammed his left knee into David's back and sent him to the ground, pinning him._

 _Parker yelled, "David!" She ran at the man pinning David down. Just when she got to him, another warrior lunged forward and slammed their fist into Parker's stomach. Parker groaned in agony and bended over, going to her knees. The warrior that had punched Parker pulled back and then clenched their hands together and slammed them into the back of Parker's head._

 _Parker collapsed against the ground, prone now._

 _Casey cried out, incensed. Parker, David, she barely knew them. And what she knew of them was that they were ornery at best, but she couldn't just stand back and do nothing while they were getting beaten into the ground._

 _She rushed forward, any common sense she might have previously possessed fleeing her._

 _She bolted from the hill where she was perched on next to Mario and Bobbi. She heard Bobbi's crying of her name flowing behind her, but she didn't listen as she charged. She practically flew at the warrior that had knocked out Parker, fists raised. She heard Jesse yelling her name, alarmed, but as she lunged, she didn't process it. She was just inches from the warrior that had attacked Parker when huge, heavy hands landed on her and pushed her down to the ground, face first. She heard laughter above as she struggled and turned her head, biting down on a thick, meaty finger next to her mouth._

 _The laughter continued, her biting doing nothing. The finger was just thick and tough. It was like trying to bite into the toughest meat imaginable. She heard a woman's voice spit out a sentence that Casey didn't understand._

 _They were speaking in a language that Casey didn't know. She heard the pounding of footsteps towards Jesse, Bobbi and Mario. Casey tried to wrench herself up from the grip that held her down, but couldn't, instead she lifted up her head and searched around. Jesse was being restrained by two warriors, she was struggling the whole time. Jesse was big and broad-shouldered, but compared to the two beefcakes that were restraining her that were basically the size of two wide trees put together, she didn't have a chance._

 _Casey whimpered, heart hammering, seeing Jesse being painfully restrained like that._

 _She heard Bobbi and Mario yelling from the hill. She lowered her head and saw them being thrown to the ground and dragged backwards, captive, one warrior each retrieving them. The man that was holding Mario captive had him in a neck lock, threatening to choke him at any moment, his flailing and punching doing nothing. Bobbi had her arms restrained behind her back, pulled backwards towards the horses alongside the warrior choking Mario._

 _Casey bucked up like her life depended on it, and considering what she had heard about the Grounders, it most likely did._

 _She heard a bark of a sentence, then heard the person above her holding her down snarl back, "Ain!" She turned her head towards the man that had snapped and felt a hand being taken back from her shoulder. She looked at the man, covered with a metal and wood mask crafted into the guise of a snarling animal of some kind. The hand balled up into a fist and wrenched forward, punching Casey in the face._

 _Casey cried out, pain slashing through her as her vision went completely black._

 _When she awoke next, she and the other five would be surrounded by the rest of the twenty-six, in the bowels of the dungeons of these peoples' kingdom, captive for weeks till their salvation would arrive, also captive._

 **Present Day**

 **North Atlantic Sea**

 **The Great Stallion**

Wells came down the wooden ladder carefully. The captain said that in the Ice Nation it was nearing dinnertime right now. So it would be getting darker sooner for them. They eventually would have to have furs wrapped around them because of how cold it was. Already, Wells had been able to feel the change in temperature. It was only slight, but it was chillier than before.

The past few days had been a little strange, to say the least. He was certain that Anya didn't know that he knew her secret. At first he had considered not playing chess with her today. But he had decided to take her up on the offer, for her didn't want to give away that anything was wrong. For treachery to work eventually, one had to act normal. Like everything was going the way it usually went. The sun was beginning to set and everyone who was done with training for tonight and who had eaten, were heading off to bed. According to Lexa, they would know that they were getting closer to Ice Nation territory when the sun began to set earlier. Wells assumed that that was a time zone thing.

But the last two days, despite them being weird because of what Wells knew, had carried on like normal. Or as normal as he could pretend it to be, knowing what he knew. He was almost sure Anya suspected something was off whenever he was in the same room as her. Wells could just feel his anger and disgust and betrayal leak through him and he was certain that Anya sensed it. Lexa wouldn't have found it strange, as he had felt like that towards her from the moment they stepped out of Arkadia and headed for the docks to get the boats. But he knew that Anya must have sensed a change in him.

She just didn't know what that change was.

Wells's feet touched the floor and he turned to Wakuren who was sitting on the edge of the side of her cot, looking up at him curiously, her head cocked slightly, dark brown hair hanging past her face and shoulders. The many lit candles that surrounded Wakuren's bunk illuminated them both so they could see each other clearly. Wells could see…his new mother's eyes watching him with curiosity.

"Yes, Wels?" Wakuren asked. "Is there something wrong, ai inkrez?" Wells stared, mind still thrown for a loop with all this. He knew what "ai inkrez" meant, thanks to Lincoln and Octavia's Trigedasleng lessons. Inkrez was the Trikru word for "son."

It still blew Wells's mind the more he thought about it. He had a mother. He and Clarke had a mother. Thinking of Clarke reminded him why he was here. He said quickly, brain no longer short-circuiting, thankfully, "I wanted to give you this." He pulled the backpack that he had on him off and unzipped it, revealing the thin manila folder that he had put the drawings in for travel. "I decided to bring along the last few of Clarke's drawings before we took off from Arkadia. Just a keepsake of hers to remind me of her. I thought maybe you should have this." He pulled out the folder and opened it, sifting through the different striking and very real looking drawings that Clarke had made before she, Wells and the army had gone to Mount Weather.

He eventually found what he had been looking for. He smiled and pulled the drawing out, closing the manila folder with his left hand and keeping the rest of the drawings inside of it. His right hand hoisted the drawing up and he walked over to Wakuren, stretching his arm out and offering the paper to her.

Wakuren frowned, confused as she took the paper between her hands and looked down at it.

Wells smiled when he heard the gasp leave Wakuren's throat. Her blue-green eyes shimmered with emotion as they scanned the paper in her hands. Wells, looking at Wakuren, realized just how much of Wakuren's likeness Clarke had gotten accurate in the portrait. "When…" Wakuren asked, voice that had once been strong and full of conviction wavered, "When did Klark draw this?" Wells answered softly, "It…it looks just like me."

Wells smiled and nodded. "Yeah. She's a really good artist. But I'm sure you knew that already from some of the other things you've seen her draw. She drew that before we went to Mount Weather. I never asked her why she drew you or some of the other close warriors that came with us before…" Wells didn't say the words, but they both heard them. _Before the Commander betrayed us._ Wells continued, hoping not to linger on the subject, "She didn't say why she drew them either, but I had my suspicion. I think she wanted to remember the faces of all those that fought alongside us when we stormed Mount Weather. If any of us died….." Wells's voice shook, "She just wanted to remember the faces of those closest to us in the army before we went in case anything happened to us."

Wakuren's eyes remained on the drawing, mouth stretching into a watery smile. "I see." She said quietly. "Did…do you know what her opinion of me was?"

Wells's heart hurt for Wakuren at the question. He understood why she asked. He might not have understood two days ago. But he did now. This wasn't about someone wishing for the admiration or respect of Wanheda or a former enemy. This was a woman who had come to love him and Clarke as her children. She wanted to know if Clarke thought of her fondly or affectionately.

Wells naturally had been the one who had been Clarke's closest friend and confidante during that time, as he always had been. Besides Anya and Lexa, he was the one that she had trusted the most. And so yes, he knew how Clarke regarded Wakuren at the time. "Well," He began, smiling, voice gentle, "I'm sure you know from the pattern of drawings that she did before in Polis that she usually doesn't draw anything that isn't important to her in some way. She drew you because, like I said, it meant something to her that you and the other warriors at the frontline were coming with us to Mount Weather.

"And," Wells added slowly, "She…she told me that she thought you were very brave and strong. And that she trusted you. She saw you fight in one of the training sessions. She thought you were a very strong warrior."

Wakuren swallowed and said quietly, "That isn't what I meant. Did she…at Mount Weather," Wakuren lowered the paper with her drawing on it, looking up at Wells. "Did she think that I abandoned her too at the Mountain? Did…did _you_?"

Wells's eyes widened in realization as he understood what Wakuren was asking. Her blue-green eyes were full of uncharacteristic desperation. She wanted to know if her daughter and son had thought she had abandoned them. The fierce scourge of the Plains People was at her most vulnerable right now. She wanted to know if she had failed as a mother.

Wells flinched, mind going back to that night at the Mountain, when the Commander had ordered her forces back. Yes, he knew that Clarke had felt abandoned. And so had he. They both had felt abandoned and alone that night at the mountain. But they had gone in anyway. Sterling, Finn and Monroe had followed. Wells would feel nothing but endless gratitude to them for that. Raven and the others had been captured when going into the Mountain to rescue the others.

Or they had been delivered to the Mountain Men by Lexa's forces themselves. It still made Wells's blood boil, no matter how many times he thought of it. Wells was sure that if he could get away with it, he'd put a knife through Lexa's chest himself. If not for the pain that the other Ark people went through, then just for the pain that Clarke, Raven and Charlotte had been put through that night and for all the trauma they had experienced since then.

Though Wells hadn't seen Clarke since after she pulled the lever, since that piece of shit, Bellamy who was supposed to be watching her let her walk away, he knew damn well that there was no way that his best friend would have been able to pull that lever, kill everyone in the mountain and not experience severe trauma afterwards.

No, Clarke would be haunted by what happened at the mountain. Most likely still was to this day.

Seeing Wells's flinch, Wakuren looked away, closing her eyes, a mournful look on her face. "So you both _did_ feel abandoned by me." Wells shook his head, taking a few steps closer. "No," He said gently, "We didn't even know you loved us like that. And we didn't know that you were going to come back for us. You couldn't have stayed with us when the Commander ordered everyone back. You would have been tied up and beaten and dragged back by the Commander's warriors. Or killed. It isn't your fault. It's _hers._ " Wells couldn't keep the disgust in his voice as he thought of Lexa.

Wakuren smiled at Wells, despite the sadness in her eyes. "Sha, she would have done all that you say. But it doesn't change that I feel like I should have done more for you both." Wells could barely deal with the sudden pain that shot to his chest. This woman, basically his and Clarke's mother now-or rather, had been for a while and they hadn't even realized it, was mourning for not being able to help them. The two of them, him and Clarke. People had been cast out by their own kind and when they got to Earth instantly bullied and tormented and misunderstood just for being related to people that they couldn't help being related to. And Wakuren somehow understood them and loved them for who they were without question.

Wells watched the pain that overcame Wakuren's face as she looked at the drawing in her hands once more and knew what he needed to do. Hell, it was what he _wanted_ to do. Though helping comfort family members was something he was used to doing, doing the same for the person that was now his and Clarke's mother as she believed that she had sorely failed them both, came as a shock. Because the last time he had comforted a mother he regarded as _his_ mother, it had been years ago when he had been eight. And his mother, Catherine? She died only a few months later from the flu.

But Wells broke out of his stupor when he saw how much pain Wakuren was in. Years ago or not, he had a mother now. So did Clarke. And as any son would, he needed to show her that he loved her and that he had faith in her, no matter what. He walked over to the bed and sat down on it next to Wakuren, startling the woman. "Wels?" Wakuren asked the young man.

Wels smiled and reached his arms out and wrapped his arms around Wakuren's shoulder, stretching his neck so that he was laying his forehead against the top of Wakuren's head, hugging her close. After a few seconds, he felt Wakuren relax against him, pressing her forehead against his cheek, and for the first time in what Wells suspected had been a long time, wept.

Soon they'd have to depart, and Wells knew that. He couldn't be caught here with Wakuren, unless they wanted to explain how their bond had been starting to form. But right now Wakuren needed this. Wells stroked his left hand along Wakuren's long, dark mane. He would tell her to keep the drawing. It was hers practically. Clarke had drawn it for Wakuren, and Wakuren should have it.

Wells gently kissed Wakuren's forehead as her warm tears spilled against his neck. It wasn't much. But it was what he _could_ give her for now till they found Clarke, the last member of his, Wakuren, Charlotte and Raven's barely knit together family.

 **Two days later**

Tiptoeing around Anya and the others, keeping the secrets of what had been shared between him and Wakuren hadn't been easy. He was perfectly fine with keeping his mouth shut about Wakuren spilling the beans about the village that never existed. That was a must. If he said anything, given Lexa wasn't exactly what you'd call reasonable, he could very well be putting Wakuren in danger, and that was unacceptable.

So silence was what it was. The past few days he hadn't known though, how to act normal around Anya. Sure, he knew that telling her anything at all wasn't a good idea. But he just didn't know how to remain acting like everything was alright between them. The one Grounder besides Lincoln who Wells had thought to be trustworthy, as it turned out, was just as deceitful as the rest of the Trikru. He knew _how_ he was supposed to act around her, so as to hide his rage, his anger, but he didn't know _how_ to act like that, knowing what he knew.

Wakuren's warning of his safety and Clarke needing her family stayed in his brain, luckily enough, so he knew better than to do anything that was outright suspicious.

But still, how the fuck was he supposed to act?

Then again, there was one thing he could do. Wells frowned. Deep in thought. War…..yes, war in theory, sounded more appealing than kneeling to of all people, Lexa. The only person before her who he'd rather kill himself before bowing before was Bellamy. Fucking Bellamy. Abuser and giant man-child. But Bellamy was not here. Lexa was. And the question was whether or not he was to bow to Lexa for the sake of their people.

Yes, of course, he claimed that he wanted their people to have their dignity, because if they bowed to the Commander, they would no longer have that dignity. But would he really risk all his peoples' lives?

A thought struck Wells. As he lay against the window seat of the lower level of the ship. Charlotte was resting her head on his ribcage, resting with him. Wells looked across the room at where Raven, Monroe, Sterling and Finn sat at the table, laughing and making small talk. A thought hit Wells and hit him so quickly that he was shocked he hadn't thought of it before.

A deal. An arrangement. Lexa wanted them as part of the Coalition? Well, Wells would give her an ultimatum. She could take it and welcome them into the Coalition. Or she could not take it and they would not become part of the Coalition. It was unlikely that Lexa would accept without a fight. But Wells knew exactly what he was going to say. A smirk came to his face, the realization good. So good. He couldn't outright attack the Commander or even poison her, but he _could_ beat her politically. But that would have to wait till Clarke rejoined them. If she was still alive anyway. Wells stiffened at the thought.

"Charlotte?" Wells said, lifting his head and looking down at his sister. Charlotte looked up at Wells, frowning. "Yeah, Wells?" Charlotte asked. Wells nodded to Raven and the others. "Do you think you can stay with them? I need to go do something important." Charlotte didn't look pleased by this. She frowned more deeply. But she nodded. "Okay." She said, voice sounding almost mournful. Charlotte crawled up to Wells and hugged him close. Wells hugged her back and watched the girl get up and run over to the table, grabbing a stool and pulling it close.

She got up on it and Wells sat up, sliding off the window seat. He leaned down and grabbed his bag. It was filled with a bag of chess pieces and the chessboard. Along with Wells's favorite books. Wells zipped up the bag and let it rest against the windowseat where he had been laying and started walking along the floor towards the ladder, looking back with worry at Raven. Something he had learned as a leader for a while was that subterfuge was important. Especially while handling people like Bellamy, Kane, Lexa and Anya. Your enemies had to think that they knew what you were doing. When they really didn't.

He already had succeeded in that endeavor with hiding his and Wakuren's interactions. As for his request of Anya? Lexa didn't know about that. So again, he was successful in hiding that. Now there was just one thing he needed to do. He would keep hiding from Lexa what he had asked of Anya to do to Bellamy. But he would also neglect to mention that Wakuren had told him the truth.

He told Lexa the truth and she would never let Anya out of her sight. Possibly not Wells either. So telling her wasn't a good idea. He needed to keep all these secrets for Clarke. For Raven. For Charlotte. For Finn. And now, for Wakuren. He went up the stairs and looked around the ship. He found Lexa almost immediately. Wakuren was leaning up against the wooden wall of the ship, smirking in amusement, watching Lexa with a look on her face that told Wells she knew precisely what a fraud she was. Her biting into the plum she had in her grasp was probably the only thing that kept Lexa from seeing that expression. Wells saw it only for a second before she started eating.

He smirked, feeling even more a kinship with his new mother. Anya was by some other soldiers, training with them.

Wells walked over to Lexa, ignoring Octavia's glare from where she was bound. Wells had long since gotten his fill of amusement watching her tied to the post. He nodded and smiled at Lincoln who did the same. He went over, seeing Lexa. Lexa tilted her head towards him, eyes narrowed at his approach. "Wels." Lexa said, trying to hide the anger in her voice.

Wells fought the smirk that tried to creep up onto his face. He felt Wakuren's concerned gaze on him. He kept his gaze on Anya. Anya right now was the only one that mattered. She was going to be manipulated like no tomorrow, but she mattered right now in the scheme of things. She was to be the assassin of Bellamy. So of course, Anya mattered. He needed her.

He looked past Lexa, without hesitation and looked right at Anya. "Anya?" He said, making sure his voice was smooth and gentle, masking his growing anger, realizing what she had willingly kept from him and Clarke for so long. "A word, please?"

Lexa stiffened and glanced behind her shoulder at her once mentor and Anya lifted her head, eyes narrowed. Wells could see the questions in those dark eyes. Those same dark eyes that Wells would have at one time felt so assured at seeing. Wells fought the need to clench his fists at the reminder of Anya's deception. He genuinely wondered how exactly people like Bellamy, Lexa and Anya even existed. They were so…amoral. So shitty as people. How did they even exist?

Wells had more often than not used to wonder that about John Murphy as well. But he had long since stopped thinking about that loser. What concerned Wells right now was Anya and how quickly and efficiently she could dispose of Bellamy.

Anya slowly turned and looked at her Commander in question. The Commander turned to Wells cautiously, then nodded to Anya in permission. Anya bowed her head respectfully and walked around Lexa and the warriors right in front of her. She stood by Wells at attention. "Wels?" Anya asked. Wells nodded and started turning, heading for the side of the deck across from them. Anya followed.

Wells walked along with calm and smooth strides, making sure to keep his head clear. He needed to think about only one thing. The object. Which was getting rid of the threats to him, Clarke, Raven and Charlotte. And now it seemed, Wakuren too. He'd admit that was still something of a surprise. But he'd protect them all. He had to.

Wells came to a stop by the wooden wall of the ship and glanced past Anya at where the others were standing. Anya checked behind her and said, looking back at Wells, "They can't hear us from here." Wells nodded, but he wasn't concerned about that-though that was important. He was making sure he wasn't worrying his mother too much. Wakuren was alongside the other warriors, facing her Commander. Though her face was aimed at Lexa, Wells had no doubt she was keeping her peripheral vision open so that she could keep track of her newly adopted son.

Wells didn't want to worry her. He knew what he was doing.

He regarded Anya, backing up against the wall of the ship and leaning against it, checking on the other side of the ship to make sure that no one else was listening in on them. He then turned back to Anya.

"So, Anya," He began softly, "We are all set for the plan? To get rid of Bellamy."

Anya nodded, dark eyes flashing with intent.

"Yes." She answered. "I have my instructions. When we return with Klark to Trikru land, I will into your camp." Wells nodded. "And _I'll_ provide a distraction so no one is looking." Anya smirked finishing. "And when I get into your camp, Arkadia, I will _kill_ Belomi." Wells nodded, pleased. "Exactly. But there may be a few complications. Abby? Kane? They may still be problems for Clarke." Anya cocked her eyebrow.

"You wish me to kill Klark's mother?" She asked, not fighting the astonished tone in her voice. Wells sighed, waving his hand. He knew this would cause some upset. "Not exactly." He answered. "I'm saying it's a possibility. I just might need your services again at some point. If Clarke is trying to re-establish her power and be our leader along with me, Raven, Lincoln and Octavia as she should, Abby, knowing her, won't like it."

Anya nodded. "Sha," She said grimly. "I remember. Abi doesn't react well to taking orders from who she sees as inferior. Unfortunately her own daughter is one of these inferior people." Anya's eyes burned with that sentence and Wells really had to wonder how good an actress the woman was. To be able to act like she cared about Clarke that much? Impressive.

Anya said darkly. "I'm aware that Abi won't listen to Klark. Will undermine her repeatedly. And may even put Klark in danger to get her way." Wells nodded. He'd like to think that such a statement was far-fetched, but unfortunately it wasn't. To keep a secret for her own safety, Abby had betrayed her own husband and daughter. Had gotten Jake killed and Clarke sent down to Earth, put in danger. And she never once respected Clarke as a leader. Never.

Wells hated to admit it, as he had cared about Abby as the mother of his best friend for years, but he knew that he had to come to terms with the fact that just like Bellamy, Abby only cared about her own ambition. What she could get for herself.

And if there was a chance that Abby and maybe Kane too would have to be _done away with,_ just like Bellamy. It was a grim thought. One that Wells knew he never would have considered a year and a half ago. But a year and a half ago, he had been a very different man.

The man he was now? Hungered for the blood of other human beings. Not just because they were in the way or because they threatened people he cared about. But because he _wanted_ their deaths. Wells fought the smirk that was in danger of creeping up on his face. Some sick, twisted part of himself _wanted_ Bellamy, Abby and Kane to suffer and die.

It was disturbing, because when had he _become_ this person? But lo, Wells never found any horror or shock over what he was now. He just hoped that Clarke, his sister, would still look at him as if she knew him despite everything he was doing. Should she ever find out that he was behind the eventual deaths that would occur, he just hoped that she would understand.

He hoped in the end that all four Clarke, Raven, Finn and Charlotte would understand.

Wells tilted his head at Anya. "We might have to worry about Clarke not forgiving us for what we're doing. But you've already come to terms with that, haven't you?"

Wells wasn't sure if she had or hadn't, and didn't care. But he was certain that she'd answer 'yes.' She'd need to maintain the appearance that she was honorable when it came to Clarke. And though Anya's credibility in that particular area was completely shot in Wells's eyes, he knew that Anya would have to at least pretend she was alright with that scenario.

Anya's lower jaw tightened, but she nodded. Wells fought a laugh. Funny. Anya almost convinced him for a second with that glimmer of pain in her brown eyes, that she actually cared about what happened to Clarke. Anya eventually answered, "Sha. I have. I know that Klark will have a hard time forgiving me and Heda for what we did. So I will acknowledge that she perhaps won't be able to forgive me for the deaths of Belomi, Abi and Kayne. And I've accepted that. Just as long as she's safe. That's the important thing."

Wells tried not to snort. Anya was so convincing. Truly.

Instead, he forced a kind smile. "That's good to hear. Now we plan certain opportunities where you can carry out your mission." Making sure once again that no one was listening in on them, looking around them, Wells turned back to Anya and proceeded to plot with her their assassination scheme.

Bellamy, Abby, Kane, Lexa, John Miller. All of them were on a wheel of death for Wells.

All it would take was the right circumstances, and they would die. Wells vaguely wondered if this was why power tended to reveal who people were. Because it was addicting.

Wells occasionally would tell Anya more information about Bellamy abnd about what he had done before the war between Wells and Anya's people had started.

He told Anya and Anya just wanted to kill Bellamy more. Wells didn't have to do anything except tell the _truth._

He told Anya that Bellamy slept with underage girls. In other words, children. Anya took that information as he was hoping she'd take it. He was now a rapist in her eyes. Rapists were punished horribly here. He told her about him using his thugs to pin him down and rip his life-detecting bracelet off. He could just see the danger growing in those dark eyes. Bit by bit, Bellamy's life was becoming more and more forfeited with each revelation.

Wells fought a grin. He hadn't even told Anya yet about Murphy almost getting hanged. Wait till she heard _that._

Funny how powerful and dangerous the truth could be. Yes, the truth could be very, very dangerous. And that was Wells's weapon against Bellamy right now. Using the truth and Anya, he would _bury_ Bellamy.

 **South of Ice Nation:**

 **Territory of the Milgreds:**

The letter in the Milgred queen's hands did nothing to deter her interest. If anything, the knowledge of who the letter was from only made her pay attention swiftly. And it seemed this person, the woman who Razeeta saw as a daughter wished to speak with her.

The letter read in perfect Azgedasleng, _"To queen Razeeta and her beloved Jorsua and Dasha, I hope you can forgive any intrusion in your life at the moment. However, I wish to arrange a meeting with the three of you, if you deem it in your interest. You see, queen Nia has willed it that I am to speak with you. In hopes of an alliance between our people and yours. I have offered to speak on behalf of kwin Nia's army. I would like, with your permission, kwin Razeeta, to stand before you and request a possible meeting between you and kwin Nia. I know that you and the Sowlas have already helped each other in some ways. I would like to discuss possibly allying your people with ours. I promise there are benefits to this meeting, if you give us permission to speak with you._

 _Only with your permission, of course, Kwin Razeeta._

 _This is very important. I miss you, Jorsua and Dasha. I have thought about what you offered me before. I would like to talk with you about it. I miss Lanu, Docima and Koro too._

 _With respect,_

 _Klark kom Azgeda_

Razeeta closed the word scrawled letter up, taking it between her thumb and index finger, and pressing it close to herself. This was very interesting. Klark now called herself "Azgeda." Not Skaikru. Interesting.

Razeeta regarded the messenger, Shehen kom Azgeda. "Thank you, Shehen. Now, leave us." She ordered the queen's messenger when she saw his hesitance. The thin, brown-haired man gulped. She smiled coldly at his fear and leaned back against the bone-crafted chair. "Thank you, Shehen. Now you may go off to your beloved master. Go on, Shehen," Razeeta nodded her head to the door of her fortress, "Go on, puppy. I'm sure you'll get a good treat for your services." Shehen shuddered. He felt the instinct to defend Queen Nia. He respected his queen more than anyone in the world. But he feared this woman and her appetite for flesh more, he was ashamed to admit even to himself.

When he was about to turn, Razeeta smirked and added, "Oh, wait, Shehen, just a moment." Shehen jumped and turned around. He faced the grinning face of the woman, the queen's bright blue eyes flashing dangerously. Next to the wretched queen, were her two one day wives, Jorsua and Dasha in their own chairs. Shehen swallowed, observing the dark-skinned Jorsua, apparently a daughter of the Sowlas, who some said was quick tempered, and even more dangerous at times than her lover, Razeeta and the pale skinned, black haired Dasha, the poisoner of twenty men in one room, all to take revenge upon them keeping the secret of who raped her sister from the queen.

He didn't wish to be on their end of anger for anything.

Razeeta caught his attention, voice calm, leaning back against her chair, ebony hair stark black against the ashen, stone wall at her back, the only color in the room a slight orange added from the many roaring fires inside the many stone bowls full of burning coals all around the room and the two different fireplaces in the room.

"Shehen," Razeeta said, "Please request from Klark kom Azgeda as she is calling herself now one thing, if it wouldn't be too much trouble for her." Shehen was startled by this request. The one thing that was different from how Razeeta and her lovers stationed their thrones from how queen Nia put her throne-Razeeta and her lovers put their thrones at the same eye level as anyone who approached. At floor level. Not on any pedestal or stairway.

It didn't make them any less frightening.

Razeeta continued without waiting for Shehen answer. "I request that Klark bring her boy to me when she chooses to come." Shehen's fear for a moment was halted by his confusion. "Her boy?" He echoed. What boy? Did Razeeta mean one of the Sky boy children? Razeeta answered without needing further questions, "Farrun." Razeeta answered. "Her little one. The boy. Ask her to bring him here as well." Shehen gulped, understanding now. Ah. Tenmar's son. He nodded. "I will ask." He said. He meant it. He did not wish to anger Wanheda. But he did not wish to anger this animal in woman form either.

Wanheda, he was certain would only kill him. She might even burn his body to send his spirit on its way. She was kind enough, despite how strong she was. This woman would eat him. Slowly.

Razeeta waved her right hand then from where it lay on her black fur covered knee. "Goodbye, Shehen kom Azgeda." She said in a carefree tone, smirking. Shehen swiftly bowed and bowed to both Jorsua and to Dasha, recalling what had happened to another messenger when that messenger hadn't shown the respect to Jorsua and Dasha that Razeeta had felt her lovers deserved. And Shehen had no desire to be chained down to the floor in a bowing position for twenty hours in that same position like poor Helikden was. The poor man's back hadn't been the same for almost five days after that, no matter how much the healers back at queen Nia's territory tried to help, just for not respecting the queen's lovers.

Shehen turned on his feet and walked to the doors. Once Shehen had left and the guards closed the massive, metal doors closed, Jorsua turned to her lover, smirking at Razeeta. "Farrun?" The woman asked, amused. "Truly? You're going to have Klark bring her boy here? Do you think she would do something like that? When she left us, she was still cautious of us." Razeeta smirked at Jorsua and Dasha, handing the letter over to them. "No." Razeeta assured her loves. "She wishes to see us." Razeeta smiled, confident in what she had read.

Dasha asked, voice low, "Are you certain that you didn't read what you _wanted_ to read?"

Razeeta finally released her possessive hold on the letter, allowing both Jorsua and Dasha to read what the letter held along its paper body.

Razeeta smirked, watching as her lovers read the message. Klark wished to see her and Jorsua and Dasha. And now she called herself "Klark kom Azgeda." Not "Skaikru." Did Klark not identify with the Skaikru anymore? Did she consider the Azgeda her true people now? Razeeta's lips curled back, teeth exposed in a grin before she could help herself. Klark was one of them. Not of the Sky, Not of the Trees, but of Ice. While she didn't necessarily claim to be a Milgred in that letter, Klark had forgone any mention of Sky People. Or any tie to the Trikru. She was Azgeda. Ice Nation.

Despite all the horrors that Klark had seen in Azgeda, she called herself Azgeda now. Razeeta's intrigue and satisfaction increased. Given Klark's strong moral system, it had been hard to imagine for Dasha and Jorsua that Klark would come to see them as her mothers. But now? Now Razeeta had less concerns of that.

There was a saying in the Milgred territory. The saying was that "the primary Azgeda, (the queen's people), are only a few sins away from being Milgreds." If Klark wasn't disturbed by the thought of thinking of herself as an Azgeda, then the chances of her willingly being adopted by the three of them became higher.

Then there were the words in the letter before that. _I miss you, Jorsua and Dasha._ Klark missed the three of them. Razeeta narrowed her eyes with thought. Razeeta doubted that Klark lied, unless it was absolutely necessary. Though she didn't doubt that sending a letter to the three of them was necessary, she was sure that Klark had meant her words too.

Razeeta's head turned to the doors, where her icy blue eyes found Eko walking away from the door after she closed the doors, her right hand holding her spear, left arm still through the straps of her round shield. "Eko," She commanded, right arm gesturing for the guard to come closer. Eko nodded and came forward. She went before the three thrones and kneeled down, head lowering. "Ai kwin." She said devotedly, eyes closed, brown hair hanging down as she bent her head.

Razeeta observed Eko. Eko was a warrior of twenty-three. She was two years older than Klark herself. She had been twenty-two when she had been captured and thrown into a cage in the mountain. From what Razeeta understood, Eko got briefly loose because of Sky person in the mountain named Belomi who Klark seemed to regard highly. Eko and the others that were freed tried to stop the Mountain Men, before the cowardly Heda, Leksa betrayed their allies, Klark and the other Skaikru by taking those in the mountain and leaving.

Razeeta wished she could say she was surprised. But considering what she knew about this particular Heda, who only seemed to serve the Mountain Men in her years of being Heda, she found she wasn't all that surprised. Since the moment this Heda had come into power, she had done nothing but place in a peace between them and the Mountain Men. And she refused to let her people take up weapons that could fight against the Mountain Men. She feared them too much. Leksa and her General, Onya were cowards. But Klark? Her Klark? She had put an end to it all.

"Rise, Eko." Razeeta ordered, getting the guard to rise from her kneeling position. Eko raised her head and her eyes opened. Razeeta said in a smooth voice, thinking over the interactions she had witnessed between Klark and Eko, "As I'm sure you know, Eko, Klark has become very important to me. And to my beloveds." Razeeta nodded to Jorsua and Dasha who were reading along the words of the letter. Razeeta did not miss the corner of Jorsua's mouth starting to twitch up while reading.

Razeeta turned back to Eko. "Klark as far as I'm concerned is _mine. Ours._ Our jilina. Now, Eko, what do you intend to do when Klark arrives here again?" Eko did not look startled or frightened by the abrupt demand. Eko's lips, if anything almost raised up in a smirk. "I'm sorry, ai kwin," She spoke, voice laced with amusement, "I truly don't know what it is you mean."

Razeeta gave Eko a dry look. "How interesting." Razeeta said darkly. "Do not hide the truth. I know you want her. In fact, I believe you feel more for her than just desire." Eko straightened her back, head still high. She narrowed her eyes at the statement. "Very well." Eko said calmly. "Yes, ai kwin. I wish to pursue Klark. Do you wish to prevent that?" Razeeta grinned at Eko's defiance. She noticed Jorsua and Dasha out of the corner of her eye raising their heads up from reading the letter to stare at Eko.

Razeeta spoke then coldly, "You certainly have become braver than usual, Eko. So you wish to be with Klark. You seem to be forgetting, Eko. Klark is to be unioned with Ontari kom Azgeda, Nia's heir. Or are you just choosing not to be aware of this? I have a feeling there will be complications if you wish to pursue Klark. From both Klark and from Ontari. And I don't think you wish to see how the kwin in the main kingdom of our land would react to your bold desires." Eko smirked, leaning her spear back against her right shoulder. "If Nia was here," Eko sneered the other Ice Queen's name out with distaste. "I wouldn't have said it. I wish to pursue Klark. Whether she accepts me or not is her choice. That's between her and me. I have no interest in Ontari's feelings on the matter."

Razeeta scoffed, leaning back against her throne and watching her guard. "How can you be so sure you love her? You knew her for all of sixteen days." Eko nodded. "As did you."

Eko stared at Razeeta with burning eyes and Razeeta felt her black eyebrows lift to her hair at Eko's defiance. She heard both Jorsua and Dasha's gasps next to her. She couldn't blame them. This was the first sign of any kind of brash defiance they had ever seen from Eko ever. Razeeta had seen other times, as she had known her guard longer. Eko had served in the Milgred military for years and years, since she was training at the age of seven, back when the girl was being trained to serve Razeeta's Milgred father, Arifash who had sat on the throne she was now upon.

Razeeta had met Dasha two years ago and Jorsua three years ago. She had known the willful and loyal Eko for far longer.

Since her father's death eight years ago, Arifash cursing his daughter for killing her own father, even though the swine more than deserved it, Razeeta had tried to look after her people as best as she could considering she had long ago tried to divorce herself from her heart. Since her mother's rape and murder. Since watching her father torture the man who had been her mother's lover to death publicly in the square outside of this building. After her father had butchered the man, the possessive Arifash had raped and murdered his own wife.

Both her mother's rape and brutal murder at the hands of the woman's husband _and_ witnessing her mother's lover's brutal, torturous death stayed burned into her memory, had done so for years and years.

As a result, she knew to punish any who forced themselves on another. Punish them horrifically. She knew others had their own methods for punishing rapists in their own lands. Her methods? Cutting off all the limbs of the rapist, cauterizing the wounds so that they didn't bleed out, then tie them to a post naked in the cold, put cuts all over their bodies and unleash a couple of wolves and stand back and watch as the wolves rip at the bloody, still living mess of a person.

Razeeta had hated her father from that day after her mother's death. Arifash had blamed everyone except himself for the horrifying deaths. He blamed his wife for her adultery and had blamed his wife's lover for interfering in their lives. The only one he had not held accountable for the deaths of his wife and the woman's lover had been him. He who had done the raping and killing himself.

Well, Razeeta had seen to it that he had been punished and punished horribly.

Razeeta gestured for Eko to move forward. Slowly standing before her, Eko stared back at Razeeta. Razeeta nodded to the floor. "Kneel." She commanded. Eko did as she was told and kneeled before Razeeta. Razeeta then moved fast, reaching for the hilt of her dagger. She unsheathed her dagger, gripping the knife around the curved, painted ebony bone hilt with multiple carvings relevant to their tribe and placed the sharp bone close to Eko's throat. Eko tensed only a moment, but her gaze never broke from Razeeta's. Razeeta felt the two shocked stares on her person. Jorsua and Dasha were both watching with great interest and perhaps some apprehension.

Razeeta spoke coldly, never removing her knife from Eko's throat. "Tell me, what happens if Klark refuses you?" Eko's lips twitched only once with the threat of potentially frowning. She nodded. "Then I will still be devoted to anything she wants. Instead of being her entarg, I will be her servant." Razeeta cocked her head. "I don't need to tell you what will happen if you try to force her into anything?" Eko shook her head, gaze turning dark. "No, kwin. You needn't tell me that. And I will never force Klark into anything. I swear it." Razeeta chuckled, laying her head back against the throne's head, at last pulling her dagger from Eko's throat. "Very well." She smirked, eyeing the letter in Jorsua's hands, tearing her eyes from Eko at last. She laid her arm over her lap, dagger dangling over the edge of her left leg then. She turned to the guard then and nodded to her. "If that is true, Eko, then I give you my blessing to court Klark."

Eko's smirk was wide and she bowed her head to her queen. Razeeta waved her dagger from her legs only a moment. "You may go back to your post near the door." Eko nodded, getting up and walking over to where she had stood before.

Razeeta looked back at her lovers, earning a smirk from Jorsua and a raised eyebrow from Dasha. "Well, that was brave of her." Dasha commented. "Brave?" Jorsua snickered. "Try suicidal. She thinks she can demand from us the right to court Klark."

Razeeta shrugged. "And we're going to say who Klark can and can't be with? She hasn't even accepted us as her mothers yet."

She saw Jorsua's jaw tighten and she could hear Jorsua's words even though the dark skinned woman didn't say a word to Razeeta. _She will._

Razeeta chuckled. "Either way, it's up to Klark, not us."

As for who Klark considered her people? Klark may be loyal to the people of Azgeda or to the Skaikru, though she called herself Azgeda now. But Razeeta knew, had known since Klark was forced to leave that Klark's heart or some of it was still here in their territory. She had seen how Klark looked at them even when she seemed happy to rejoin the people she thought of as her family, amongst them being the princess, Ontari herself.

Klark had gone willingly. But she hadn't wanted to leave them. And Razeeta knew it. Those new Sky Children that were here on the ground now that the Ice queen and Ontari wanted her to remain quiet about the people Klark saw as her family, but so was she, Jorsua and Dasha. Klark had just been reluctant to admit that.

Then there was the matter of Farrun. Klark didn't know this, but Farrun was not born of Nia's kingdom. Razeeta doubted even Farrun knew this. She doubted that Tenmar would have told the boy. Who his blood mother really had been. If Klark was coming here, Razeeta wanted to see the boy that would potentially be Klark's son by adoption. Though Razeeta didn't know if either Klark or Farrun knew the truth about Farrun's heritage, but if Tenmar hadn't told the boy, then she would. If Klark wished to speak with them, Razeeta was sure she knew what it was about. She knew of the rebellion that was rising right beneath Queen Nia's nose.

(Apparently, something being beneath someone's nose was a Sky person saying, and it meant that something was happening very near someone else or there was an item very near someone else, and that person had no idea.) Klark had explained what that saying meant. A very odd saying, but Razeeta would go with it

Razeeta was no fool. She knew how to recognize a revolution. She had learned to become sharp to it in case she needed to wipe out any who would defy her. She'd have thought that Nia would know how to recognize it as well. She was gladdened that Nia had not found Klark and her family's intentions out. But between the many accidents that had happened to Nia's devout followers and the best of Nia's warriors dying in battle when Razeeta knew that those same warriors had survived many battles before, the cannibal queen knew that there was no coincidence.

Because of the debt that Nia owed Razeeta, she knew Nia would never go against her, should she send spies to Nia's territory. And Razeeta had indeed done that. She had used her own spies to keep a close watch on Klark, since Klark's departure from the Milgreds' territory.

Because of those spies she sent to Nia's land? She knew what had happened to those very skilled warriors-what _must_ have happened. They had been killed by Klark's group. Or some of Ontari's most trusted warriors had killed them. Sometime during those battles, those same warriors had been found and had been killed by Azgeda they thought they could trust. Azgeda who were set on removing Nia from power permanently.

This had all started before the twenty-six and Klark had gotten here. There were deaths of Nia's followers that had occurred all over before any of them had arrived. So Razeeta had a feeling that Ontari had been responsible for it all. But the rebellion was becoming more dangerous for many of Nia's followers because of them. Because of the Sky people that were now here. The number of deaths of Nia's followers was increasing.

When they had gotten here, there had been an increase of deaths of those that were well-known followers of the queen. Razeeta knew it was no coincidence. She honestly was surprised that Nia hadn't caught on yet. She had sent some of her spies into the queen's kingdom since meeting Klark and discovering that the gods had chosen her to be Klark's true mother, and had sent those spies to make sure that Klark and her people were safe from Nia's suspicions. Should Nia show that she was starting to suspect something, Razeeta would send an army to protect her child.

There was more to contemplate enacting when Klark got here. More…arrangements to be made. She could, if she tried, arrange for Klark to stay with her or visit her more often. As for Farrun? Well, he was one of them anyway. Tenmar wasn't even his blood father. And him being one of them would make Klark more inclined to come back here again and again to the Milgreds' land.

Razeeta smirked, thinking about that other part in the letter suggesting that the rest of the Skaikru would come to the Ice Nation. That brought a problem to mind, didn't it? Abigayle. Abigayle Griffin. A woman who was slowly becoming the most hated creature in Razeeta's mind. Contrary to what some people might think about her lifestyle, Razeeta didn't hate easily. She just saw people as food or as obstacles. Hate was a useless emotion to her. Or so she had originally thought. Emotions like hate, disgust, love even, they were all simply distractions from her thinking of things rationally. Her love for Jorsua and Dasha had proven to defy those assumptions about emotions. That they had no use in her life. And then Klark had come into their lives and Razeeta knew what coming to love someone as a child felt like.

And Abigayle? Abigayle would hurt that child again and again. All because she believed that Klark wasn't good enough to lead. Or because Klark went against Abigayle's so-called right to power. Such a sad excuse for a mother. She couldn't even keep Klark from getting cast out of the Ark. She had told their "chancellor" so easily about Klark's father, Jayke. What if Klark had been executed for what she knew? Abigayle didn't seem to be very concerned with getting both her entarg _and_ her jilina killed.

Abigayle…Razeeta would show her what pain was. She would show Abigayle that the woman hadn't even experienced pain yet by the time Razeeta was done with her if she ever met the woman.

As for the rest of the Sky people? Razeeta would offer them a safe haven if it made Klark happy. But Abigayle? And Kayne? They would suffer for the pain they had put her Klark through. And that pain would never end if Razeeta had her way. Razeeta had heard Klark's story about Abigayle and Kayne. That last time she had seen them, they had been willing to work with the Trikru. But that mattered not to Razeeta. What mattered to her was that Abigayle and Kayne had destroyed Klark's happiness. They were the reason why Klark's father, Jayke was dead. Them and that other piece of filth, Thelownyus. Well, no more. Whenever Razeeta got ahold of those two, she would make them know exactly what the revenge of someone who loved Klark would be like.

And Klark? Yes, Razeeta had no doubt at all that Klark _would_ plead for Abigayle's life, but it would be for naught. Abigayle's fate was sealed in Razeeta's mind now. And Razeeta would help Klark move on from there. She would say that it should be fairly easy, as she was certain Klark no longer saw Abigayle as her mother-or her only mother.

Razeeta had gotten Klark to talk about her life. And in doing so, Razeeta had learned much from Klark. Not because Klark had informed Razeeta of many details. No, it was the opposite of that. Razeeta had realized that though Klark clearly had hidden things from her and Jorsua, Razeeta assumed so that she could protect the people who had hurt her, since those people were "her people." But Klark had informed Razeeta of much. Klark had never mentioned any names, just told her that a great deal of her people didn't listen to her and because of that, they put themselves in more danger. That was the short version of it. But Razeeta remembered the long version, though Klark had uttered no names. People in the Mountain that had been captured hadn't listened to her. People hadn't listened to her when she had tried to save everyone on the Ark-meaning a great portion of the "delinquents'" families.

Though Klark said no names, therefore incriminating no one, her story was enough to disgust Razeeta permanently when it came to those that Klark came down with.

For with her and Jorsua, Klark had not been Wanheda. Not the Commander of Death. She had just been Klark. A girl that just happened to be a woman now because of too much time passing and too many responsibilities thrown at her feet. Under the weight of all the duties she had taken up, Klark was very clearly tired, exhausted really. In pain. Klark was in so much pain. The person that Razeeta had held captive was not some mighty warrior of legend, but a wounded, vulnerable, traumatized child in a scarred up woman's body. That much had been obvious to Razeeta when she had met Klark's eyes after Klark had conveyed her story.

And it hurt Razeeta to see. Her need to comfort the girl, to take care of her and protect her had been almost overwhelming for her when she realized what she had been feeling. And along with it? The need to hunt and kill those that had hurt the girl she swiftly had begun to see as her child. She had just felt the bloodlust rising up inside of her, thinking of wrecking whoever had hurt her and Jorsua's Klark to shreds.

When Klark had fallen asleep next to Razeeta on the fur rug by the fire, Jorsua had suggested they find out who had hurt Klark so that they could find them and cut them apart, bring their heads to Klark as presents.

Razeeta had chuckled and looked back down at the sleeping Klark. She had turned back to Jorsua and said quietly, grinning, _"I'm not opposed to the idea, but I have a feeling Klark will not appreciate it. Remember, she's still trying to protect them. Why else didn't she say any names? I don't think she'll react well to seeing their severed heads."_

Jorsua had grumbled quietly and had gone back to reading her book, waiting for Klark to wake up. The book had been cracked and the title faded as many covers of the books were, but as long as the pages were unharmed, then that was all that mattered to Jorsua, since the stories were in tact.

Razeeta turned her attention to one of their guards. Eko. Speaking of those that might potentially hurt Klark.

"Eko," Razeeta began, making the guard look at her at attention again. "Get everything ready for Klark's arrival. She is bringing some companions with her. And I doubt their appetites will be the same as ours. So get ready as many goats, pigs, sheep and cows as possible and bring them all here for Klark and the others to see what they are eating so they won't believe that we will trick them in any way. And have Zemar bring the wine and ale in two days time for when they get here."

"Two days?" Eko asked, cocking her head. Her eyes then widened in recalling how Shehen had gotten here. "Oh, the tek machines." Razeeta nodded, recalling what Shehen said Klark called those things. "Bikes" they were called. Klark had said when she and her group had found the tek that there was another word for the bikes. She said they were referred to as "all-terrain vehicles." Whatever that meant. Either way, they helped get people here quicker. It would have taken four and a half days to get here, had it been by horseback. But by ATVs? They could get here in only two days and get back in only two days.

Razeeta nodded. "Ain. Get the animals ready and have the wine and ale ready in two days time." Eko nodded. "Ain, kwin Razeeta." Eko kneeled down and bowed to all three of them and got up and went out the door, past the other two guards. Razeeta smirked. Eko perhaps was not the ideal warrior she would be pleased with pursuing her daughter. But she knew Eko well enough to know that Eko would be loyal, protective and from what she had seen of Eko and Klark's interactions together, she believed that Eko _would_ love Klark and be as supportive as she could be of Klark.

Razeeta smirked. So she was going to set up a type of home for Klark. It was odd. She had never considered her kingdom as an actual home. Since her mother, father and sister's brutal deaths and the wars that she had gone through avenging her sister against the various bands of groups fleeing from different destroyed villages and against Nia's family's armies, Razeeta had always considered her residence a fortress. Not a home. It was only when she had met Jorsua and Dasha that she had even entertained the possibility of it being a home. And Klark being added to their family, and perhaps Farrun, a grandson as well would just solidify this place as a home. But it was the first time she had really thought of making this fearsome fortress where she had tortured her enemies and _ate_ them as a home.

But if she could help it, it _would_ be for her child.

She turned to Jorsua and Dasha. She knew that Dasha hadn't had much contact with Klark, as the other woman was securing their forces and their various fortunes. But she knew she wanted to hear Dasha's piece on this.

"Dasha, Jorsua," Razeeta said, looking at her entargs lovingly. She smiled when they both lifted their heads to look at her. "I would like to hear what your feelings are about Klark being our daughter. Understand, I will take her in as mine, no matter what. But I want to know what your feelings are about the matter." Razeeta knew she didn't have to worry about Jorsua. Even without Jorsua's outburst about feeling protective of Klark when the matter of Eko was brought up, she knew she didn't. She had seen the way Jorsua had looked at Klark, especially after Klark had trusted them enough to sleep in their presence. It was like looking at a mother wolf watching over her sleeping pup.

Razeeta watched as Jorsua's smile touched her face. "You really need to ask, kran en segara? There's no question. She's our child. She's Milgred, if she decides." Dasha gave a small bark of laughter, snickering. "Forgive me, the both of you. As I said, I support this, since it makes you happy. But did Klark seem the type who would willingly live with Milgreds? She knows what we eat."

"Of course she does." Razeeta said, not bothered by Dasha's laugh. "She saw some of the bodies on the fire. She knows. I doubt there's anyone in her family who doesn't know by now, living with the queen's army as long as they have. I'm sure they've heard all the stories by now." She turned her position on her throne so that she was turned more towards her to be wives. "She knows what we are. But she is strong enough to accept us the way we are. I know that a part of her considers this kingdom her home. When she arrives, you'll see for yourself." She was about to say more, when a rolling wheel of fur and flesh rolled into the middle of the room, catching all three women's attentions.

Dasha and Jorsua watched with smirks on their faces as the three furry "children" of theirs, Docima, Lanu, and Koro jumped around each other, hissing and growling. Razeeta watched the three with some amusement, though some aggravation as well.

Docima was a snow-white adren. Lanu a monli and Koro a rusuben. Three animals that Razeeta had taken in. Lanu was a monli that had been wild in the different cities of Azgeda when Razeeta found the monli as a baby and took the baby in. Docima had been injured in a trap set up by hunters and Razeeta had killed the hunters and taken Docima in. Since Koro wasn't native to these parts, was brought in by cruel trappers from Trikru territory by Trikru trappers, Razeeta had immediately bought the terrified young Koro.

Klark, after meeting Koro, Docima and Lanu had given them different names. Came up with the Gonasleng names for them, though Razeeta had never heard Koro's animal term in her life, but had heard of what Klark called Lanu's kind, the monli and Docima's kind, the adren. She said that Lanu was a "cat." Docima was an "arctic fox." And Koro was an "opossum."

Klark, to Razeeta's delight had taken to all three beasts incredibly well. She thought of Docima and Lanu as "adorable" and even found the strange looking Koro a little "cute." And even Razeeta would admit that Koro was odd looking. She had never seen his kind before. A white head with a long, crooked snout, attached to a grey, fatter body, and black ears. Big, dark eyes. A long, hairless, pink tail. Like a rat's tail. When Razeeta had first met Koro, she had half thought about adding him to a stew with the livers and kidneys of two of her enemies.

However, as soon as Koro was out of his cage, he had crawled up onto Razeeta's lap and stared up at her inquisitively. As soon as he did that, Razeeta had grumbled a curse in her native language and decided not to eat him. When one of her guards tried to grab Koro, she had threatened the guard and sent them away. So Koro was now a permanent occupant of this house.

Jorsua always said that she was odd. A year after she and Jorsua had begun their relationship, Jorsua had memorably said dryly, _"I don't think I understand you. You are odd. You slice men's throats easily, eat their kidneys like it's nothing. But the moment a pig squeals when it realizes that it's going to be butchered, you shed tears."_

While that had been an exaggeration, Razeeta had understood what her entarg meant.

Razeeta had always been more sympathetic to animals than to human beings. Perhaps because of how helpless she found them. Even the most unarmed human could be deceitful. And even the biggest bear was still naïve to how brutal and cruel humans could be. Razeeta was not unaware of both of these truths.

Koro was the last of the animals that Razeeta had taken in. Docima and Lanu had been taken in before that. Docima had been the first. Docima had taken to Lanu quickly. Apparently deciding that Lanu was her little sister, Docima protected Lanu nonstop. Docima seemed to have adopted Lanu as Razeeta had adopted Lanu and Docima.

Razeeta watched the three animals jump around each other and paw each other, Lanu's paws around Docima's furry neck, Docima flattening her chest against the floor, her furry rear in the air. Koro jumped on them both, teeth briefly over the furry patch over Docima's shoulder before the three of them rolled around on the floor again.

Razeeta chuckled. She hadn't thought it was possible for her to feel love again after her father's death. Her sister had been killed in battle, her mother raped and murdered by her own father and then taking her own father's life in retaliation had left Razeeta cold and empty for years. Till she had met Jorsua and Dasha. And even after that, even after she had taken in these three ridiculous animals rolling around in front of her, she never could believe that she could ever love someone the way she would love a child. At least, she didn't believe that in regards to a _human_ child. She loved Lanu, Docima and Koro plenty as her own children. But they were not humans.

Humans were...problematic. They were complicated and would even hurt their own family if they felt it benefited them. Razeeta had learned that the hard way. There had been times in the early days of their relationship, when Razeeta hadn't even entirely trusted Jorsua or Dasha. The two of them still knew that and accepted that it would be hard for her to ever fully trust them. At least for a while. So loving a human as she would a child? The way she did her three little beasts? She had always thought that impossible.

That was, at least, until she had met Klark.

At the time, she hadn't understood it. But the moment she had met Klark, she had found that she had felt a connection with the younger. At the time, she had thought that she was the only one that had sensed it. But Klark seemed to take to her as if she didn't even register that the Milgreds _ate_ other people, even though she had made it clear that she had heard the stories of the Milgreds before then.

Perhaps Klark's ability to be calm during the beginning of the encounter had been because one of her former lovers, Onya was part Trishana. However, from what Razeeta understood, Onya's mother had left the Trishana before any of her children were born and had met her entarg in Trikru territory. And cannibalism of course was forbidden in Trikru land. So Razeeta doubted that human flesh had ever passed through Onya's lips or the lips of her brother and sister.

But perhaps Klark had known of Onya's heritage before, which may have been why she was so calm. She expected Razeeta and the others to be like Onya.

Yes, Klark had seen what had been on the fire and had refused to eat any of it. In which case, Razeeta had ordered some goats to be butchered for Klark. It had taken a whole day for Klark to let some of her guard down around Razeeta. She never acknowledged that the Milgreds ate people, but she _had_ been cautious. At the time Razeeta hadn't figured out whether Klark not acknowledging the Milgreds' food habits was because Klark hadn't wanted to offend her captors in any way, or if Klark was being cunning about not saying anything.

It hadn't occurred to her until Ontari came by to retrieve her betrothed that Klark had stayed Ontari's armies' hands and Razeeta had the idea of why. Either for diplomatic reasons or just for the sake of merely being polite. Or both. But Klark had calmly told Ontari and Ontari's troops to calm down. As for how cautious Klark had been, it had taken a while for her to let her guard down, during her time in the Milgreds' care. But Razeeta had managed it.

But despite that caution? Razeeta had seen how calm Klark had been around her. Razeeta had wondered, even before she had first met Klark, if some people were just _meant_ to meet. If some people were just _fated_ to meet and have a connection with each other. The instant connection, the almost immediate bond that she had felt with Klark had been unmistakable, even if Razeeta hadn't been able to recognize the type of bond for what it was.

It had taken only a few days after Klark's departure when Razeeta realized what the bond had been. She had had nothing prior to compare it with. So she wasn't sure she could be entirely held accountable for not trying to keep Klark longer. But it had still hurt. It had hurt like nothing else since her mother's death.

It was only now when Razeeta realized that maybe there was some stock in believing in the gods. If Odin, Freya, Sif, Saga, Rind, Thor, Bor, Balder and the other gods or maybe the gods Jorsua's mother and father had taught her about, Tawa, Grandmother Spider, Eototo, Angwusnasomtaka, Masauwu and the like indeed had a hand in her life sometimes, despite how murderous and vicious she was. Then again, there were more than enough infractions committed by her ancestors, and perhaps by Jorsua's as well. Yet the gods seemed to favor her father and grandfather plenty before their deaths.

Jorsua, being a Sowla by birth, and her family all living in the upper parts of the Ice Nation, had fallen in love with Razeeta, with a very different upbringing than Razeeta and Dasha. Jorsua's father at first had been horrified when he had learned of Jorsua's love for Razeeta, the cannibal queen. But Razeeta had met the man. It seemed Awor was coming around to this reality. Though very begrudgingly and through sheer aggravation. Jorsua's sisters, Otna, Reja and Ulina had all been skeptical to say the least. Jorsua's younger sisters, Otna and Reja eventually came to accept that their sister was going to marry Razeeta and Dasha. Her older sister, Ulina still could not look Jorsua in the eye. She considered her sister a traitor. One who "lay with" two flesh-eating beasts and had committed a crime against their gods by eating human flesh herself.

Needless to say, the Sowlas did _not_ practice cannibalism. From Razeeta understood, one of the main groups that made up the Trishana _did_ in fact practice cannibalism, but most Hedas barely paid them mind. Treated them as they treated all of Azgeda. As pariahs and paid attention only to the non-human eating members of the Trishana. So it really wasn't a surprise to Razeeta that Jorsua's Sowla family had taken a rather long time to come around to their marriage.

As for Dasha? Her mother and father and two little brothers were cautious, but as they were native Milgreds, took to their family member marrying the queen much better than Jorsua's family.

As for how Klark's family would take to Razeeta? Well, that was another story.

Razeeta had shared her life story with Klark after Klark had told her everything. Especially the part of Jayke kom Skaikru being killed by his own entarg, Abigayle. Razeeta's heart hurt. For once, it hurt for someone besides herself and her lovers. She had conveyed to Klark her own story, and what her father had done to her mother. She had watched as Klark's eyes widened with what she heard and absorbed the shocking information. Razeeta had tried to emphasize the kinship between the two of them, though she was certain that Klark at the time would have hesitated to admit that it existed.

" _Your mother killed your father, Klark. I promise you, I know the pain you feel. What my father did to my mother will never leave me. I am sorry for what you have gone through. But know this, you're not alone."_ Klark eventually, as Razeeta had hoped, asked what Razeeta's father had done to Razeeta's mother. Razeeta had given the details and watched as Klark reacted with barely contained horror. Razeeta hadn't responded in any way, just had watched. She had nodded when Klark had, with pained breaths told Razeeta how sorry she was.

Under the weight of such tragedy, what else could one say, except that?

Razeeta hadn't told Klark that to earn Klark's pity. She had told the girl that so as to gain a kinship. Though it seemed it wasn't necessary, given how quickly Klark had taken to her and to Jorsua. Razeeta was certain that Klark would come to see the Milgred territory as her home, or _a_ home, that was unless she did already.

Razeeta turned to Dasha with amusement written all over her face. "Your choice _is_ important in this, my entarg. Though I refuse not to take her in. She's my daughter. One way or the other. But I _would_ like to know your feelings." She looked at Dasha. Dasha sighed, smirking and shaking her head. "You are ridiculous, kran en segara. Of _course_ I am happy to take Klark in. If that is what makes you and Jorsua happy." Dasha added, teeth flashing. "And I'll admit, I find the girl endearing myself."

Razeeta smirked. Of course Dasha did. Klark was the easiest person to love. She supposed _all_ mothers saw their children that way. All true mothers, unlike Abigayle did, anyway. Abigayle was no true mother.

So the arrangements had been made Klark and some of her family would be coming here. Asking for their support and act out any part that they expected of them. And well, how could Razeeta refuse her child's request? As for Farrun? The boy was returning home. And with him? Was the chance at leverage. Leverage to convince Klark to return to the Milgred territory, if she needed to use the advantage. If Razeeta needed to, she could persuade Farrun to get Klark to return to Milgred land. To her home.

"And you don't believe she'll object to being the child of three cannibals?" Dasha remarked, amusement in her tone as she glanced at her lovers and to be wives.

Razeeta snorted, shaking her head. "She won't judge. Not after everything. She'll give us some allowances." Jorsua looked at Razeeta and asked, "Do you think we could get her around to…our type of diet?"

Razeeta waved her hand, smirking. "No. Leave _that_ subject for now." She turned her head and stared at the roaring fireplace ahead of them, where what Klark called a "CD player" stood with all "CD towers" stood. Razeeta had found it and all the CDs about seven years ago. When she had realized the CDs as Klark had called them, were the same shape as the circle on top of the tab that slid out when she pushed a button on the machine, she had put one on and had messed with the door of the CD player. She had turned the knob a few times, which controlled the volume, curious and had almost gotten a heart attack when the music played. Music had come out of the big, black boxes next to the player, attached to it through long ropes. Wires. It had completely confused Razeeta for a time. But she was in no way ungrateful for it. It was a device that played _music._ How could Razeeta complain?

She had possessed it for years now, she just had never known what it had been called before, till Klark had explained it.

It was expected normal for the tribes not to handle tek. However, the Azgeda were often skeptical of that rule and expectation. And the Sowlas and the Milgreds both spurned that expectation far more than others in the Ice Nation. It was particularly important for the Milgreds to use medical technology when it came to testing blood, making sure they didn't eat any disease that their human prey might possess. So yes, the Milgreds used quite a bit of tek. Even if they didn't know the proper names for it.

As for this CD player? How could Razeeta _not_ appreciate it? It played music. So she had taken it from where she had found it and had dragged it and all the other CDs, ordering her guards to help her and had them bring it and the CDs to the palace. She had found the CD player and all of the CDs just at the border that separated their territory and queen Nia's territory.

"No, Jorsua." Razeeta said, grinning now, eyes narrowed. "Though I don't believe that Klark will judge us too harshly for eating other people, I would not try to pressure her into tasting human flesh. No, if Klark ever tastes human flesh and meat…, I want her to do it _willingly_ and _gladly."_ Razeeta felt, rather than saw Jorsua smirking next to her.

 **Jilina: Daughter in Azgedasleng**

 **Inkrez: Son in Trigedasleng**

 **Eko: Echo**

 **Kayne: Kane**

 **Abigayle: Abigail**

 **Author's note: So yeah, there are actual periods here. It always aggravates me when that's never mentioned in fiction. Yes, biological women have periods. They also shit just like everyone else. I know, periods, so disgusting. Rolls eyes. Now if only people in this fandom got as disgusted with a full-grown, predatory man of twenty-three to twenty-five who has the most power in a group having sex with underage girls as young as fifteen and sixteen therefore committing child molestation and rape technically and murdering three hundred people in their sleep as they would with periods, but hey, I guess that's asking for too much of human decency.**

 **And yes, there are all terrain vehicles that Clarke and the others found in underground stashes. Wanted to bring them in because I love those things. They've found regular ones-ones that I love and the snow ones which are much bigger. (Aren't so fun when you're falling off of them, lol)**


End file.
